My Heart Will Go On
by Charlie'sLostVampire
Summary: Engaged to be married to a woman who he does not love - a match enforced by his money grubbing father - the poised young aristocrat, Adam, is utterly miserable. On his first night aboard the RMS Titanic, he debates pitching himself over the edge of the ship and into the icy waters below, never to be seen or paraded around ever again. And then he meets Belle.
1. Never An Absolution

**Chapter 1: "Never an Absolution"**

The sea had always been appealing to Adam, in the years leading up to the present day. He had fond memories of visiting the Bay of Biscay with his mother as a boy – they would ride horses and build sand castles and splash about in the surf from mid-morning well into the evening, when the chauffer would insist upon them getting back to the estate, lest his father should have a fit.

Of course, those were terribly distant memories of a world the young aristocrat found himself struggling more and more to reach with every year that passed. His mother – kind, generous, and beautiful as she was – had died when he was seven years old, leaving only his father and a string of servants to raise him. The servants were lovely – his father was not. The Earl of Avignon was a greedy, pompous, cruel man who raised his son with a harsh hand, and never failed to use him to his advantage should an opportunity arise.

Such an opportunity came knocking at their door about six months prior, when Monsieur Dockery and his daughter, Marie, showed up at the estate. To Adam, it had been a bizarre and unprompted visit; why on earth would an American businessman travel all the way to France with his daughter just to see the Earl? Marie, sweet as she was, had insisted it was merely a social call while they were touring the country – their fathers were old friends, apparently.

Neither she, nor Adam, had realized that, within the Earl's study, an arranged marriage of "mutual benefit" was being drawn up. And so, less than a month later, the engagement announcement appeared in papers all over the French countryside and in society magazines in New York:

 ** _"L'Earl d'Avignon c'est heureux d'annoncer l'engagement de son fils, Lord Adam DeLeroy Tolbert, à Mademoiselle Marie Monique Dockery. Le mariage aura lieu le 15 mai 1912, dans la cathédrale d'Avignon."_**

 ** _"Mr. Robert Dockery, of Dockery & Associates: New York, is proud to announce the engagement of his eldest daughter, Miss Marie Monique Dockery, to the charming Lord Adam DeLeroy Tolbert, son of the Earl of Avignon. The two will be wed on the 15th of May in France, at the Avignon Cathedral, surrounded by Europe's aristocracy and several of Dockery's closest acquaintances, who will make the journey to Europe on the return trip of the RMS Titanic. We at the New Yorker wish the young couple well._**

The only pleasure Adam took from reading the announcements was a small sense of amusement at the variances between European news and its American counterpart. The announcements that Marie's father had submitted were as flashy as his own father's were simplistic. But reading them had made this entire situation feel all too real, and today was arguably the biggest reality check of them all. For he was currently sat in a motorcar, across from Marie, watching Southampton rush by and the port, along with the largest ocean liner known to man, appear.

The date was April 10th, 1912, and the young couple, accompanied by Adam's father and several servants, were to sail across to New York to retrieve Marie's father and his associates for the wedding, so they could all thoroughly enjoy Europe and take part in all of the pre-wedding festivities that were in order. While Adam loved a good party as much as the next young man, the prospect of celebrating a marriage that he wanted no part in for an entire month had him feeling slightly ill.

"…darling? Did you hear what I said?"

Glancing away from the window, Adam shook himself slightly, meeting his fiancée's blue gaze.

"I'm sorry?"

"I was just commenting on how marvellous the ship looks. Have you ever seen something so _enormous_?" Marie asked, grinning broadly, and Adam cast another glance out the window, finding himself rather underwhelmed by the sight of the _Titanic_ looming before them, growing closer as they approached the port. For Marie, it symbolized returning home and collecting her family for her marriage to a wealthy lord. For Adam, the hulking piece of iron symbolized the iron bars trapping him in a life he never asked for.

"It doesn't look any bigger than the _Adriatic_ ," he commented, earning a snort from his father, who lowered his newspaper to frown pointedly at his son.

"Oh, don't be so ridiculous. _Titanic_ is twice the size of the _Adriatic_ , easily. Did Professeur Andrés teach you nothing about size assessment? Or are you being foolish for your own crude amusement?"

"It was merely an observation, Father. You needn't lose your head over it," Adam quipped in response, frowning pointedly out the window, and he found himself slightly grateful for Marie's presence when she remarked, "Not an entirely unfounded one, either. _Adriatic_ was quite big."

It was moments like these where guilt gnawed at Adam's insides. Marie was trying, very hard, to be a good fiancée. To make him happy. By all rights and logic, he should have come to love her by now. Six months was a perfectly long courtship. But he just… _didn't_. It wasn't that he didn't like Marie; on the contrary, he was quite fond of her. She was a lovely friend, always considerate and with the exceptional wit of a modern American girl, but she had been presented to him in a dreadful way. For his father hadn't insisted upon the marriage hoping for his son to be happy; no, no, no. It had been insisted upon because Marie Dockery was an incredibly rich young woman, with a massive dowry, and the Avignon estate was, for lack of a better phrase, _broke_. The Earl had spent all of their money on lavish accessories and décor, and made numerous bad investments in businesses that went under, and now there was barely a penny left to their good name. Should Adam's marriage fall through, the estate would have to be sold, their possessions would be auctioned off, and they would be reduced to commonwealth within the year.

To Adam, that hadn't sounded all too dreadful. His heirship to become Earl of Avignon had never appealed to him, even less so after his mother's death, and the very last thing he had wanted was to be forced to spend his life sorting out the mess that his father had made. He'd debated running away multiple times, and evidently his father knew of this, which is why he set up an ensnaring, wealth-ensuring marriage at the very first opportunity.

Marie Dockery was a lovely individual, but she was the very last person that Adam wanted for a wife. Starting a marriage out of greed and based upon false promises of further wealth was a shameful plot that he was disgusted to be a part of.

"Do cheer up, darling. They've been calling _Titanic_ the 'ship of dreams' in all of the papers. Doesn't that promise adventure?" Marie prompted as the motorcar came to a stop among hundreds of people and carriages and vehicles, and Adam offered her a half-hearted smile for her benefit as his valet opened the door.

"Quite," he offered as a response, watching as Monsieur Lumiere helped Marie out of the motorcar, and Adam nodded for his father to step out next, taking a deep breath of the wafting sea air before following in suit. He used to love the scent. Now, it was merely making him seasick.

* * *

If there was one thing that Englishmen and Frenchmen hated more than each other, it was a hustler. A devious person who would join them at cards pretending to be a novice, easy pickings, only to take them for everything they had. They always kept an eye out for hustlers, and never let themselves fall for their tricks – and, if they did, the bloke would never again see the light of day.

Of course, that hardly counted when a _woman_ turned out to be the hustler – because, surely, women hustlers didn't exist. Ladies played bridge and solitaire; dainty, harmless games that wouldn't make them swoon with anxiety. Poker was for the harsher sex.

So, when a pretty young woman approached a group of gruff young men in a pub in Southampton, requesting to join their game, they had laughed and let her in without protest or a second thought. After all – she was a _woman_. A _girl_ , even; what could she possibly know about poker?

When she put every penny to her name into the betting pool, they knew they had struck it lucky. A foolhardy girl, playing for kicks, who likely thought they would give her money back when she lost. She had another thing coming to her.

Or, as it turned out, they had another thing coming to _them_.

Eyeing the gentleman surrounding her at the table, expressions all relatively unreadable, the young woman placed a card on the table and drew another, leaving her own expression blank as she eyed the cards in her hand. For all they knew, she had nothing, and even if she had something she wouldn't know it and would likely fold out of naivety. Easy pickings, she was.

"What are you going to do, Monsieur?" she prompted the man across the table from her, and he eyed her for a long moment before fishing in his pocket and dropping two pieces of paper into the pot that didn't resemble the rest of the money there. It only took the young woman a moment to realize that they were tickets to the ocean liner currently in port, headed for New York – and she could make a pretty penny in New York. Far more than she had in Paris.

"All in," he stated, tapping his cigarette so ash fell onto the table, and the man to his left looked absolutely flabbergasted.

"Gaston, that's insane! Those tickets cost a fortune! And one of them is _mine_!"

With a withering look from his companion the other man shut up, clearly not possessing Monsieur Gaston's confidence as he laid his cards down on the table, stating, "I fold."

Turning to her right, the young woman entreated the next man, who proceeded to fold, and the man to her left did the same. It was down to her and the boorish, brainless man looking her over like a piece of meat.

"Care to throw anything else into the pot before you bet? Or will you fold, as well?" he questioned, and the young woman arched an eyebrow.

"If you're implying I bet _myself_ , I'm afraid you'll be sorely disappointed," she quipped, before adding, "But I'm all in, as well. Go on, then; let's see what you've got that has you so smug."

Smirking devilishly, the broad-shouldered man laid his cards on the table; a two-pair. The young woman cringed theatrically, exhaling a soft sigh.

"That's a good hand," she agreed, clearing her throat before laying her own cards down, adding, "But not quite good as a full house, I do believe?"

The smug man's expression morphed to one of disbelief as he looked down at her cards, and he stood up so quickly that his chair flew backward and his beer toppled over into his companion's lap, who gave a startled cry.

"That's impossible! You're… You're a…!"

The young woman half expected him to accuse her of being a cheat, but she wasn't exactly surprised when his complete statement was, "You're a _woman_!"

"Indeed I am," she agreed, getting to her feet and adjusting her tattered bag on her shoulder, using her arm to swipe everything on the table into it, including the tickets for the RMS _Titanic_. The tall, broad man was turning red in the face with rage. "Now, if you fine gentleman will excuse me, I believe I have a ship to catch."

Turning on her heel, she raced from the tavern, hearing the man shout, "You just had to let her play, LeFou! This is your fault! _You idiot!_ " before the door swung shut on its hinges behind her.

Racing down the street, she quickly grabbed the hand of a young woman who had been waiting outside of the tavern, earning a surprised squeak as she was forced to run just to keep up with her brisk pace.

"Mademoiselle Belle! _Ralentissez!_ Slow down!"

"I can't! We've got a ship to catch! Quickly, now; it's set to leave port in less than five minutes!"

"A ship? What, _sur terre_ , are you talking about?"

"That!" Belle exclaimed, pointing to the enormous ocean liner sitting in port, so large that no other ships had any room to dock, and the young woman she was pulling along squeaked with surprise as they shoved their way through the massive crowd of people.

" _Mon Dieu!_ Surely you must be joking!"

"Oh, I'm very serious, Plumette; this is our ticket out of here. Literally!"

Fishing through her bag, Belle thrust one of the tickets into her friend's hand, grabbing the other as she continued to kick, push and shove their way through the throng in an attempt to reach the loading dock before they ran out of time. It wasn't very ladylike, but Belle wasn't your average lady.

"I struck it lucky in the tavern; a presumptuous fool bet his tickets aboard thinking I had never played poker before. You should have seen the look on his face!"

"Did… Did you cheat?" Plumette asked as they neared the ship, and Belle smirked at the question, giving her head a shake.

"Where's the fun in that?"

Clearly flabbergasted, Plumette merely allowed Belle to tug her along until they reached their destination, only to have Belle pull her even harder when she realized the loading planks were being pulled back by crewmen.

"No, no, no! Stop! Wait! We've got tickets!"

The gentleman supervising the boarding frowned as the two women rushed onto the plank, which had already been pulled several feet away from the door, glancing at the tickets being thrust toward him.

"Miss, you're really cutting it very close-"

"I know, I know. But we've got tickets!"

Narrowing his eyes, he examined the two women before him. Belle, in a well-warn dress and a blue sweater, her hair wild, and Plumette, in a maid's dress, tattered at the hem. They were a bizarre pair to take in. Belle had met Plumette while she had been leading a vagabond existence in Paris, floating from place to place, sketching this and that for miniscule payment. Plumette had been a housemaid at a Parisian estate, but had been dreadfully unhappy – a sentiment that was clear in the sketch Belle had done of her from across a tavern on the night the two young women met. After giving her a franc for her efforts, Plumette had listened intently as Belle regaled her aspirations to find passage to America and become a real _artiste._ The housemaid had heard stories of _le grande America_ ; there, she could be more than a common servant. She could be a singer, or a dancer, or an _actrice_. The next morning, the two hopped a train to England and had been tramping about in search of a way to New York ever since.

Now, their opportunity was finally here, and Belle wasn't about to let it slip away all because some overly sensitive White Star Line employee was miffed at their impromptu appearance.

"Please, monsieur; our husbands have already gotten onboard, and we simply can't have them leave without us," Belle lied, "What would we do? Where would we go?" Resting a hand over her heart, she gasped, "How will we _live_?"

Frowning, the gentleman gave them another onceover, clearly debating before he finally asked, "Have you been through inspection yet?"

Belle, who hadn't the slightest idea what he was referring to, nodded emphatically. "Of _course_ , monsieur."

Entreating them, he finally sighed and reopened the door, motioning them through. Eagerly pulling Plumette inside, Belle beamed, tearing through the halls in the direction of their bunk. It was really happening. Finally, all of her dreams were going to come true.

* * *

"…and where shall I hang the Picasso, mon seigneur?"

Glancing away from his inspection of the suite they had been allotted for the journey, Adam met Lumiere's gaze, seeking out a good spot on the wall before making his decision.

"Over there will do. But take care that it not be in direct sunlight; it will bleach the paint."

"As you wish, mon seigneur," Lumiere agreed, and Adam sighed with distaste. _My lord, my lord, my lord, mon seigneur, mon seigneur, mon seigneur_.

"Must you call me that, Lumiere? You know I prefer to just be called by my name," he stated, rolling his eyes when his father chose that exact moment to emerge from the drawing room, a scowl on his face.

"He will do no such thing! You are a lord, and you are to be referred to as such – especially by the _servants_. Lumiere, fetch me my cigar box; it seems to have been misplaced by the servant who packed my belongings."

"Right away, mon seigneur," Lumiere agreed, retreating, and Adam resisted the urge to roll his eyes yet again. His father knew perfectly well that Lumiere himself was said 'servant'.

"Must you be so rude? It would hardly kill you to speak to him kindly. He's our valet, for god's sake," Adam snapped, and his father scowled, if possible, even more pointedly.

"You dare use the Lord's name in vain? When he has given you all that you have?" he snapped, and, with his back to his father, Adam _did_ roll his eyes. What had the Lord given him? A dead mother, a cruel father, and a crumbling fortune that he was responsible for rebuilding by marrying a woman who he didn't love. Pardon him for not being overtly respectful.

"I'm merely suggesting that you manage the servants kindlier, considering we barely have enough money left to our name to pay their wages," Adam remarked coldly, and his father exhaled a scoff.

"Nowhere does it say that I must be kind to my servants. Either I can be kind, or I can pay them. By all means, if they offer to work for free, I may be moved to kindness."

"Did you want something, Father? Or have you come only to patronize me?" Adam questioned, finally turning away from his painting to meet his father's steely gaze. The Earl sneered at Adam's impertinence, but whatever retort he'd been about to fire back was interrupted by Lumiere re-entering the room.

"My sincerest apologies, mon seigneur. I mistakenly packed your cigars with the brandy, and not in the trunk in which you had been searching."

Not dignifying him with a response, the Earl took a cigar from the proffered box and waited for Lumiere to light it before taking a long drag, blowing smoke in his son's direction before finally speaking.

"We are to dine with the Captain, and Monsieurs Andrews and Ismay this evening," he stated, and Adam arched an eyebrow.

"Forgive me, but I'm not familiar with the latter two."

"For the love of – do you not read, boy? Thomas Andrews and J. Bruce Ismay. The men responsible for the construction of the very ship that we're standing upon! I suggest you brush up on your facts, lest you should make a fool of me tonight. _Marie_ is more well-versed than you are. A _woman_!"

"You don't give Marie the credit her intelligence deserves," Adam remarked blandly, shaking his head when Lumiere offered him a cigar, instead pulling a cigarette from his pocket. "And her father is head of Dockery & Associates – New York's prime ship drafting company. I should hope she knows who these gentlemen are; she's probably dined with them before."

Thanking Lumiere for lighting his cigarette, Adam ignored his father's obvious glare of distaste.

"You know I hate those foul things," he snapped as he looked at the cigarette. "No respectable man would ever touch them."

Giving his head a shake, Adam brushed past his father and headed for the sitting room. If he had to be here, on a ship transporting him to his prison cell of a future, he would damn well smoke cigarettes if he wanted to.

* * *

"Mademoiselle Belle, I do not know if we should be up here-"

"Oh, do relax, Plumette. You worry far too much," Belle countered as she and her friend lounged close to the ship's bow. They had left port a few hours ago, and Belle had insisted on heading up top to people-watch; she'd been convinced that the _Monsieurs et Madames_ in New York would pay a fair price for sketches drawn upon the great _Titanic_ on her maiden voyage. Plumette, on the other hand, would have been content to stay down below, where their tickets permitted them to be. " _The open air is for the_ riches _!_ " she had exclaimed.

But her fretting far from dissuaded Belle's eagerness. So now, here they were, out in the open with the sea air billowing around them. They still weren't on the top deck – Belle wasn't nearly that bold – but they had a good enough vantage point to see the _riches_ , as Plumette called them, all decked out in their finery for their first dinner aboard _Titanic_. So far, Belle had sketched who appeared to be a Colonel, from the medals adorning his jacket; a primly dressed woman and her equally dressed little son; and her gaze was currently locked on a young man staring out at the sea, looking terribly troubled. Belle didn't realize that anyone of wealth and stature could look so… _unhappy_. But he did.

" _Mon Dieu_ ," Plumette giggled, her gaze flitting from the rough sketch on Belle's sheet of paper to the subject up above, "He _is_ a handsome one."

"Mmm," Belle hummed thoughtfully, lifting her gaze up to look at him once again, letting it linger a bit longer this time. "Handsome, but sad."

" _C'est triste?_ " Plumette questioned, furrowing her brow before looking down at the sketch again. "Can _les riches_ be sad?"

"It would appear so," Belle responded, pausing her pencil when the subject in question shifted his gaze from the water only to have it land on her. She hadn't expected to be caught gazing; no one else had bothered to look down here. No one else cared.

Their intense staring contest was interrupted when a woman approached him up above, resting a hand on his shoulder and stealing his attention. She was every inch _riches_ ; her dark hair was pinned elegantly, and both her neck and dress were smattered with jewels which sparkled in the setting sunlight. Belle had to blink and look away or risk being blinded by one of them. After a moment, the pair of them retreated from the railing, likely to return to the grand dining room, leaving Belle with only her sketch – and one adjustment to make to it.

His gaze was _piercing_.

* * *

"Look who I found, wandering about," Marie remarked as she and Adam rejoined their table; the Earl had sent her out to search for him, rather irritated that his son had shown little to no interest in talking shop and then, out of nowhere, had excused himself. For a lengthy period of time.

"I hope you'll pardon me," Adam requested, even though he didn't really care all that much what these gentlemen thought of him, "I only meant to take in a bit of air, but the sunset distracted me."

"Ah," the Captain remarked with a knowing grin. "Captivating, isn't it? There's nothing quite like a sunset on the open water."

"It was rather breathtaking," Marie agreed, offering her fiancé a smile, and he nodded in agreement, lifting his glass of champagne to his lips so he wouldn't have to return the expression. He would much rather still be staring at the sunset than be in a stuffy dining room, surrounded by stuffy, mindless people.

"You'll have to excuse my son's thoughtlessness," the Earl remarked, his own champagne glass in hand. "The Professeur spent far too much time on the Arts than I would have liked. A request made by his late mother."

"Well, I don't think there's anything wrong with the Arts," remarked a woman at the far end of the table, seated next to her young son. They hadn't met prior to this voyage, but Adam had been informed that Madame Potts was what the nobles like to call "new money"; as a result, she wasn't nearly as stuck up as the others seated at the table. For that alone, Adam admired her.

"I couldn't agree more," Adam concurred, lifting his soup spoon. "Professeur Andrés had the finest taste in literature; Shakespeare, Dante, Homer and the like. He had a soft spot for modern painters, as well."

"All mindless, useless drivel and a waste of my money," the Earl remarked, but Madame Potts paid him no mind, instead ruffling her young son's already unruly hair.

"Nonsense. I've been searching for a good tutor for Chip, here, for months now, and this Professeur of yours sounds just perfect. Would you like to learn about Shakespeare and modern art, dear?" she asked the boy, who grinned widely and nodded.

"Yeah! Can I, Mama? Please?"

While the Earl turned up his nose at everything about the boy, from his hair to his overly eager demeanor, Adam couldn't help but smile. Watching the pair of them reminded him of how things used to be, before his mother died. She'd been a great deal like Madame Potts, despite coming from a long line of aristocrats.

"Don't be a fool, Madame. Hiring that man will be a waste of time and money," the Earl stated, frowning pointedly across the table. "You'd be far better off to hire one of the men down at Oxford. Far better versed in their fields. World renowned."

Frowning, Adam set his spoon down, narrowing his eyes at his father.

"You can't be serious," he disagreed, his tone passing the point of politeness and verging on frank disdain. "The men at that school are said to be horribly harsh. They're meant to teach gentlemen, not young boys. They'd be liable to beat a child for not knowing the works of Plato by heart within a week."

"And so they should," the Earl rebutted, cutting his steak while he spoke. "Any scholar worth having aught to have a firm hand. Otherwise, they child will grow to be flighty and unreliable."

"Just the same, I think I'll pass on an Oxford man," Madame Potts interjected, clearly sensing things were going amiss between father and son. "But I'll keep it in mind."

Adam was disgusted. The longer he sat with these people, listening to his father dictate how a child aught to be raised to a perfect stranger, the sicker he felt. Was this to be his life after his marriage? His children, doomed to be terrorized by his father just as he had been? Was nothing ever to change? Glancing over at Marie, who was working her way through her crème brûlée, he felt his anxiety worsen. The poor girl had no idea what she was signing up for. A life as his wife also entailed a life as the Earl d'Avignon's daughter-in-law, which would undoubtedly entail watching her children be treated with a cruel disposition and a harsh hand. It was making Adam feel claustrophobic.

To make matters worse, he was expected to present Marie with a priceless heirloom before they docked in New York, to keep up the pretenses of the DeLeroy Tolbert dynasty still being wealthy and everlasting. Marie already had an engagement ring upon her gloved hand; a heavy diamond that, to Adam's dismay, had belonged to his mother. It aught to be given to the woman he loved, not to a woman he merely tolerated.

But the gift his father expected him to bestow upon Marie was simply too much. It was a royal jewel worth a fortune, rumored to have belonged to Queen Marie Antoinette before she lost her head. An expensive diamond set in a gold band, with a base shaped to mirror an elegant golden rose - the diamond, intricately cut and worth a small fortune, sparkled in the centre of the petals. According to his father, it had been nicknamed "the Prince's Rose" – but whether that was an endearing nickname derived from its original owner or a pompous exaggeration of the ring's worth, Adam was unsure. All he knew was that it was heavy, and expensive, and one of the things that his father had bought at auction that he had no need of, just to flaunt his money, which was the root of all of their problems. At the moment, the ring was hidden in the safe in their room, and Adam intended for it to stay there for as long as possible.

Yet, no matter how long he waited, all of this was still going to happen. He had a few days at best to come to terms with it all before he would be photographed with Marie among her family and acquaintances, and in a month they would be married. He could kiss any semblance of independence and freedom goodbye the second he gave Marie that ring. Then there was the possibility that, even with her fortune, there wouldn't be enough money to keep up the estate. His father had thrust crippling debt and an unloving marriage upon him, and it was too heavy a load for anyone to bear. The worst part was that, should he fail, all of the blame would be placed upon him. His father managed to hide their debt incredibly well thus far – cruelly, so that his son's name would be tarnished should the truth ever get out, but he would forever be revered as the good Earl d'Avignon.

"Ladies, it has been a pleasure. Would the gentleman like to join me in the smoking room for a brandy?" the Captain asked as he stood, time having passed quickly while the young lord fretted, and there was a general murmur of agreeance but Adam found himself making excuses.

"I actually feel I may be getting a bit seasick," he lied, gripping the edge of the table and resisting the urge to flinch away when Marie laid a gloved hand upon his arm. "You'll have to excuse me."

"Darling-" Marie tried to interject, but Adam quickly made his way out of the dining room, nodding curtly at the footmen before pushing the side door open to retreat out onto the deck – but he made no move to head toward their suite, as his father and Marie would undoubtedly have expected him to do. Rather, he turned and started briskly walking in the direction of the ship's stern – and then he found himself walking a bit faster, and a bit faster, until he was all but running, shoving past aristocrats on his way, earning a disgruntled shout from a colonel and a gasp from a duchess, but he didn't care. His head was swimming, and it wasn't at all from seasickness. It was a crushing, unbearable sense of claustrophobia. Shoving the gate open, he darted down a set of stairs to a lower deck, shoving past more people and repeating the action a second time until he found himself in the furthest area of the ship from the dining room, the only sound now being the crashing of waves below and his heart hammering in his chest. He skidded to a stop and slammed into the railing, gripping it with white knuckles as he stared down into the black, sloshing abyss.

Adam was breathing heavily with panic, unsure exactly what had motivated him to come all the way back here. It was more than a need to escape the aristocracy for a moment; he could have gone back to his room to do that. No, this felt far more… dire. He felt like a caged animal, desperate for a way out. Any way out.

Without thinking twice, he clamored up onto the ship's railing, one rung at a time, and then lowered himself down onto the other side, clinging for dear life as he stared down at the ocean, his breath still coming in cold, wheezing pants. He could do it. He could let go, and fall into the water below, and welcome death with open arms. Perhaps he'd get to see his dear mother again. He'd certainly never have to face his father again. The only thing keeping him from letting go immediately was the thought of poor Marie. He was no fool; she was kind to him, and called him "darling", but she undoubtedly wanted this marriage just a little as he did. She, like him, likely wanted to marry someone for love. The only reason he had agreed to this mess for so long was because he truly was fond of her; she was a kind girl, with a good heart, and he could, at the very least, be an equally kind husband. That was more than some girls wound up with. But marrying someone out of courtesy seemed almost worse than marrying her for her money.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Adam steeled himself to let go.

* * *

It was late. Well into the evening, by any standards. Belle didn't own a watch, so she wasn't sure of the exact time. Her only possessions were the clothes on her back, the boots on her feet, and the few blank sheets of paper and pencils tucked into her bag. Which was more than fine with her. The less materialistic you are, the easier it is to up and leave and go where the wind takes you. It had gotten her this far; a ticket aboard the Titanic and enough money to last a few weeks in New York while she found her footing.

Plumette had taken her leave an hour or so ago, claiming to be tired. Belle had opted to stay up top, lounging on a bench and staring up at the night sky. It was even clearer out on the water than it had been in Paris or Southampton; the stars seemed to go on for miles and miles, endlessly, like the universe's very own masterpiece. Staring like this, she could see where Vincent van Gogh had taken inspiration for _Starry Night_.

Inhaling the dregs of a cigarette she had bummed, Belle's artistic reverie was rudely interrupted by the rather loud sound of someone thundering past her, breathing like a panicked dog. That seemed bizarre, on the 'ship of dreams'; especially _this part_ of the ship of dreams. Sitting up, she rose to her feet and walked over to flick her cigarette butt over the edge of the ship's railing, freezing with wide eyes when she realized someone else had the same idea – only they weren't planning on pitching a _cigarette_ over the edge. They were planning on doing something far, far worse.

Approaching as quickly, but also as quietly, as possible, Belle took a slow breath before daring to speak. She was terrified of spooking this figure of desperation and accidentally sending him falling, but she couldn't just let him do it of his own freewill, could she?

"Sir?" she prompted, relieved when he didn't flail and fall to his death. "Sir, I really don't think that's such a good idea. I'm quite sure the railing was designed to keep you _on_ the ship."

"Don't come any closer," he rasped in response, his voice a few octaves higher than it likely would be under normal circumstances, and Belle knew she had to act quickly. Even if he chose to come back over, he would only be able to hold onto that railing for so long. Eventually, the cold air and damp ocean spray would make him slip.

"Monsieur, please-"

"I said not to come any closer!" he cried, turning his head to look at her, his eyes wild. "I'll jump!"

"With all due respect," Belle countered, cautiously stepping forward, "You look as though you plan to jump no matter what I do. I'd like to persuade you not to do so."

The closer she got, the more she recognized him; he was the sad man from up above. The sad man with the piercing gaze. It almost troubled her, how spot on she had been about him.

"Just go away, damn it! I don't care what you have to say! I'm going to let go!"

Leaning against the railing, Belle quietly cleared her throat, glancing down at the ocean below. She'd been in this part of the world long enough to know that the water would be freezing cold; if he didn't die on impact from such a high fall, he would freeze to death or drown, both of which would be awful ways to go. Freezing would be slow and torturous, and drowning would feel like a thousand icy knives piercing his lungs. No one deserved to go that way. Not even _les riches_.

"I'd really rather you not let go," she prompted, turning her head to look at him, watching as he continued to breathe heavily, "because, if you do, I'll have to jump in after you."

" _What?_ " the rich, desperate man exclaimed, finally turning to look at her properly. "Are you mad? You'd die!"

"Possibly," she agreed, lifting her cool fingers to begin unbuttoning her sweater, shrugging it off and setting it aside, adjusting her dress before bending to start unlacing her boots. "But I'm far more concerned about that water than the fall itself."

Frowning, the young man paused in his ravings, turning his gaze back to the sloshing waves below, his voice quieter when he asked, "…why?"

"Because it's freezing cold, of course," Belle explained, tugging her boots off one by one, setting them with her sweater before looking over the edge again. "If I jump in there after you, there will be no way for me to pull you out, and we'll both freeze to death. Or drown. Or, if you want to be poetic, we could be ripped to shreds by the ship's propellers and then devoured by sharks."

"… _sharks_?" he wheezed, seeming to go a few shades paler.

"Oh, yes. I saw porpoises this morning – and where there's one large marine animal, there are bound to be others. Sharks included."

"Oh, good god…" he croaked, clinging even tighter to the railing, turning to look over at Belle once more. "Why in God's name would you jump in after me to face all of that? You must be out of your mind!"

"On the contrary. I'm quite sane; I just happen to also be quite noble. Now that I've tried to talk you out of it, should I fail it only seems right to die alongside you."

"Good _god_ …" he whispered again, both baffled and horrified by her honesty, and Belle shrugged.

"I'd really rather not die; I'm quite looking forward to exploring New York. So, if you could step back over the edge, I'd be very appreciative." Her gaze softening, she added, "I don't think you want to die, either. Come back over. It can't be as bad as that."

"Oh, I don't know," he snapped with a sardonic sort of humor, "My father could put sharks to shame." But he seemed far less eager to hurl himself over the edge at this point. Trembling slightly, both from the cold ocean spray and his own terror, the gentleman turned back around to face Belle, his eyes still wide with fear. Eyes, she noted, as blue as the ocean below them had been this morning. "Who are you?" he finally made himself ask, unable to figure out why a perfect stranger would ever care so much.

"Belle," she responded, resting her hands over his icy ones, "Belle Delacour."

"Ah," he breathed, searching her brown eyes, willing himself to stop trembling. Loosely, her name could translate to _beautiful heart_. Suddenly, her concern for him, a perfect stranger, made more sense. "I… I'm Adam," he informed her, "Adam DeLeroy Tolbert d'Avignon."

"A bit of a mouthful, that is," she remarked, letting him take one of her hands rather than clutching at the railing, their fingers tangling together. Both of their hands were icy, but somehow her touch was the warmest thing he had felt since his mother died. "Come on; carefully. Just climb over to me. I won't let go."

Carefully, as she had instructed, he stepped up the rungs and, with her help, lowered himself back down onto the proper side of the railing. However, his trembling made his footing clumsy and his shoe caught the bottommost rung, sending him falling forward, effectively pinning his savior down to the deck below. A startled cry escaped her, resonating loud and clear across the ship's deserted deck. His eyes wide, Adam felt his face turn red.

"Oh, madame! I haven't hurt you, have I? Did you hit your head?" he was frantically fussing over her, feeling terribly guilty, when a bright light fell upon the pair of them, and when Adam looked up he found himself face to face with one of the ship's guards.

It was only then that Adam realized how this must have looked. He, a renowned aristocrat, was sprawled over a young woman undoubtedly of a lower class than he, his hands resting on her hips and his knee between her legs. The cry she had exhaled involuntarily must have drawn help. But _god_ , it wasn't what it looked like.

"Oh, god, no," he gasped, quickly pushing himself up and off of her, but his legs were still too wobbly from his near-death-experience to stand. "It's not how it looks. I would never-!"

"I'm afraid it looks rather bad, my lord," one of the guards stated, his eyes narrowed with clear distaste. A reformer, no doubt. Just his luck. They wouldn't throw him down below, would they? Not when he hadn't truly done anything wrong? O', non, non, non, _mon dieu, non_ …

"He's done nothing," he finally heard Belle gasp out, prompting him to turn his head and watch her blink against the bright light of the flashlight. "I was careless, and nearly fell over the edge. His… lordship… saved my life."

Adam opened his mouth to say something, but nothing would come to mind. She had no reason to lie for him, just as she'd had no reason to save him. Why was she doing all of this?

"Was that truly the way of it?" the guard asked, turning the light's beam back on Adam, and he blinked against it as his mouth went dry, nodding.

"Yes," he rasped, "That was the way of it."

At that precise moment in time, further footsteps echoed across the deck, followed by an exclamation of, "Darling! What are you doing lying on the _ground_?"

Turning his head, Adam caught sight of Marie, accompanied by Lumiere and a deck hand, hurrying down the stairs. Marie was quick to shove the flashlight aside and out of Adam's face, scowling at the guard.

"What on earth do you think you're doing? Do you realize who this _is_?" she snapped, and Adam thanked Lumiere as the valet helped him to his feet, taking a deep, steadying breath. But now Marie was fussing over him, just as he had been fussing over Belle mere moments ago. "Darling, what happened? I went back to the room, and Lumiere said you hadn't returned, and then this one," she gestured vaguely to the deck hand, "said he saw you run past like a bat out of hell!"

The deck hand cleared his throat, explaining that "bat out of hell" wasn't his exact word choice, but Adam shook his head dismissively, not troubled by it.

"Seasick," he quickly prompted himself to lie, honing in on his previous excuse. "I was seasick. Quite unwell. I came back here for… some air," he explained, glancing over at the ship's railing once more before seeking out Belle. He had yet to thank her for talking him down. He wanted to do something in return. But she wasn't lying on the deck, where she had been a moment ago.

In the fuss of his fiancée and Lumiere, along with the ship staff, hurrying to his aid, she'd made her escape – likely because she wasn't supposed to be up here in the first place.

His savior, _la fille_ with the beautiful heart, was gone.


	2. Gaelic Storm

**Chapter 2: "Gaelic Storm"**

Pacing about in his private room, Adam took a deep breath. Tonight had been… eventful. Dreadfully eventful. He would have _died_ had Belle not been in the right place at the right time, and he didn't even get the chance to thank her. How would he find her again? There were over two thousand people aboard _Titanic_. He wouldn't even know where to start.

More pressing still was his father's most recent lecture, which he had given to him after returning from brandies with the Captain, entirely unaware of Adam's… _seasickness_.

He had insisted that Adam give Marie the ring tomorrow night, after dinner. That way, it would be the main subject of conversation among all of the first class passengers the next day once they all got a good look at it. Normally, Adam would have fought his father's orders, told him that he would give Marie "the Prince's Rose" when he was bloody well ready, but he was simply too exhausted to bother. He was already on the ship, which was currently heading out to sea, with no way of stopping the life that was racing toward him. He had no way out.

Twisting the padlock on the safe, he opened the door and pulled the small velvet box out, flipping it open and examining the diamond with a pointed frown. How could something so small be such a heavy burden? How could he ever bring himself to give it to Marie in a way that wouldn't seem insulting? His only hope was that she would be too distracted by the sheer size of the thing to notice how little his heart was in whatever speech he would force out in the moment. Thus far, he had given it very little thought. How was he supposed to profess his undying love to a woman he didn't love at all? How could his love be 'undying' if it was never alive to begin with?

Huffing with frustration, he snapped the box shut again and put it back in the safe, shutting the door harshly and stalking over to his bed, flopping backward onto it with dejection. Tomorrow was a new day, and every new day brought the promise of a fresh wave of misery.

* * *

For Belle, however, every new day brought the promise of a new adventure. In her eyes, you never knew what you were going to do or who you were going to meet – just look at yesterday. When she woke up, she had been sleeping in the back of a musty tavern with Plumette's lap as a pillow, and by nightfall she'd been talking a French lord off the edge – quite literally – aboard the world's largest luxury ocean liner. Some people preferred to live an easy, structured life, but Belle was never able to see the appeal. She wanted adventure, and she intended to get it every single day, so long as she still breathed.

Today, she was certain, would be no different. After hearing the terribly exciting story of what Belle had done with her evening, Plumette decided she didn't want to go up top and risk coming across a suicidal lord of her own. She would stay where it was safe and quiet, thank you very much. How long that would last, Belle had no idea, but she didn't object.

Currently, she was sprawled on a deck chair and working on her sketches, the ocean air whipping a stray strand of hair around that she had missed when clumsily throwing it up into a ribbon that morning. She'd been the in middle of drawing a group of little girls playing with immaculately dressed china dolls when a shadow suddenly blocked out her sunlight.

"Belle?"

Flitting her gaze up, she found herself meeting the same blue eyes that she had encountered last night – at first when their owner turned around to face her whilst dangling over the edge of the ship, and secondly when he fell on top of her, their faces mere inches apart. They'd been blown open so wide in that moment that she thought she might drown in them. Not that he needed to know that.

"You're blocking my light," was her response, and he furrowed his brow before realizing what she meant, quickly stepping to the side and tilting his head once she was no longer in his shadow.

"You made quick work of disappearing last night. I never got to thank you," he explained, glancing around as if he expected that someone was spying on him, and Belle couldn't help feeling amused by his clear paranoia. He looked like a skittish kitten. Closing her leather-bound sketch folder, she tucked her pencil into her hair and turned to look at him, gesturing to the deck chair beside hers. Quirking his lips up at the gesture, Adam joined her.

"You don't have to thank me," she told him once he was seated, "I did what anyone would have done."

"Now, see, you didn't," he was quick to disagree, folding his hands and shaking his head. "If that were the case, I never would have been debating jumping at all. What you did was… quite remarkable. I owe you a great debt."

"You owe me nothing of the sort," Belle informed him gently, frowning slightly. "What troubles me is why you were thinking of jumping at all."

Falling quiet at her question, Adam pursed his lips and dropped his gaze to his hands. How could he possibly explain that? Even he felt, deep down, that it was all very foolish. What did he have to complain about, really? He was the son of a reputable earl, engaged to be married to a woman who would make him extremely rich, and he had more material wealth and trinkets in his suite on this ship alone than most people owned in their entire lifetime. People on the lower decks would envy him, and likely try to kill him if they found out he was unhappy with his lot. He had no right to be.

"You must think me quite an idiot," he stated, but not with pomp or snark; he said it matter-of-factly. "Poor little rich boy; what's he got to complain about?"

"I wasn't thinking that," Belle disagreed, frowning even more and turning fully to face him, their knees touching from how close their deck chairs were to each other. "What I meant was, what could possibly have made you want to jump? Of all possible ways to die, what could be so horrid that would prompt you to choose _that_? How could there possibly be no kinder way out? No way out that… well, doesn't involve death?"

Lifting his gaze to meet hers, Adam was shocked by the sincerity he found there; sincerity wasn't a commonality among his circle. Or any aristocratic circle, for that matter. She really wanted to know his story. She wanted to know him – the real him. Taking a slightly shaky breath, he swallowed roughly before speaking.

"Have you ever felt… trapped, Belle? Like the world has you backed into a cage, and you have no choice but to go where it takes you, no matter how badly you want to fight it?"

"No," Belle informed him, shaking her head. "Because that's not a real concept. No one can trap you if you don't want to be trapped. You can only be trapped if you sit idly by and let it happen."

Opening his mouth to respond, he closed it again and furrowed his brow as her words sank in. In a way, she was right; once the ship docked, there was nothing at all stopping him from steeling away in the night and never coming back. He could hop a train, travel across America, and start a new life. A life operated solely on his terms. He was _letting_ all of this happen to him – how had he never looked at it that way before?

"You're very wise, Belle," he finally heard himself say, and she grinned, shaking her head.

"I'm happy to help."

When she got to her feet, clearly intending to leave, Adam found himself jumping up to follow her.

"How did you become so wise? Who was your governess?"

"Governess!" she laughed at the idea, hugging her drawings to her chest as they walked, giving a small wave to the group of little girls she had been drawing before they continued on. "I'm not sure where you think I come from, Adam, but it certainly wasn't a place where governesses were eager to teach."

Frowning, he walked alongside her, glancing back at the group of girls she had waved to before asking another question.

"Where _are_ you from, then?"

Glancing up at him, surprised that he actually wanted to know, Belle took a breath before offering up tidbits of her life story.

"Paris. I was born there, but we didn't live there for very long. My mother died of Spanish influenza when I was very young, and my father moved us to a small town on the outskirts of France. Far away from the memories."

"Oh." Frowning, Adam put his hands into his jacket pockets, glancing down at Belle after a few seconds of silence. "I'm sorry. That's dreadful."

She could tell from his tone that he was sincere, prompting her to offer him a small smile, assuring him, "We got on fine."

After walking in silence again for another moment or two, Adam quietly added, "I lost my mother, as well. Also to Spanish influenza. It was… easily the worst week of my life. Watching her slip away like that… it still haunts me. The worst of it was knowing that I couldn't help her, no matter how badly I wanted to. I felt so useless."

Frowning with sympathy, Belle shook her head, looking up at him.

"I'm sure she didn't see it that way," she offered, "I can tell that you loved her dearly. That undoubtedly meant a great deal to her. Just having you near would have been a tremendous comfort…"

Adam shrugged, unsure of what else to say, opting for a change of subject – hopefully to one slightly less painful.

"Did you stay in that small town all your life? With your father? Are you travelling to New York with him?"

Her smile slipping, Belle turned her gaze to look straight ahead as they walked, taking a breath before she answered him.

"No. No, Papa, he… he passed on a few years ago. Pneumonia. He got lost in a snowstorm, and… there was just nothing the doctors could do to help him. But he always wanted me to do something with my life, to see the world, so… that's what I'm trying to do. I'm living every day like it's my last, because you never know. It just might be. If it is, you want to make it count."

"Have you seen it, then?" Adam asked, offering her a small smile, "The world?"

Laughing at the sheer silliness of the question, Belle shrugged, brushing the stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Not quite, I'm afraid. The world, as it turns out, is quite a big place. I have been to a few places, though. So far I've seen Valencia, London, and… Paris. It just felt right, going back there; I suppose it was my childhood calling me home."

Belle smiled at the sentiment before wrinkling her nose and adding, "People pay rubbish money there, though. That was quite a disappointment."

Laughing as she wrinkled her nose, Adam felt his grin widen, eagerly asking, "What is it you do, precisely? To make your 'rubbish' money?"

Her own smile widening, Belle pulled the pencil from her hair with a dramatic flourish, taking a theatrical bow before responding with, "I, monsieur, am an _artiste_."

"You don't say?" he found himself chuckling, his gaze falling to the leather-bound folder she'd been toting around for their entire walk, smirking and grabbing it before she could object. _Artistes_ had a pension for secrecy, but now he was curious. Fending off her attempts to snatch it back, Adam turned his back to her and flipped it open, blinking with surprise at the topmost drawing; an elaborate, detailed sketch of three little girls playing with china dolls – an exact likeness to the group she had waved to. Flipping back further through the sheets of paper, Adam found a striking charcoal drawing of Big Ben, along with a similar one of the Eiffel Tower, and further still there were drawings of people. Dozens of them. Children playing with dogs, ladies dressed in their finery, and –

"Is this… me?" he questioned, pulling one drawing in particular from the pile, utterly baffled. When could she have done this? They only met last night, under rather extreme circumstances, and the likeness here wasn't dangling over the edge of a ship. No; he was leaning against a railing, yes, but staring forward with an undeniable sense of sadness etched on his features. He'd been so sure that he had mastered keeping his emotions masked. Was he truly so transparent that a perfect stranger was able to capture his innermost feelings with only a pencil and a blank sheet of paper?

"When did you do this?"

Darting around to stand in front of him, her cheeks flushed a bright shade of scarlet, Belle quickly took back her drawings from him, stuffing his own portrait back into the folder and snapping it shut. Realizing she owed him an explanation, she breathlessly offered, "I was sitting below last night, drawing random people that I saw on the upper deck. You stood there, staring at the sunset for such a long time… You were practically begging to be drawn." Swallowing roughly, her cheeks turning even redder, she added, "You're… quite beautiful."

His own cheeks flushing pink, Adam looked away, putting his hands back in his pockets as he glanced out at the waves breaking repeatedly. After a moment of contemplation, without meeting her gaze he asked, "Do I really look like that?"

"Beautiful?" she asked, and he shook his head, turning back to her and staying quiet for a moment before he clarified, "… _sad_."

Frowning faintly, Belle found herself at a loss for words. Sometimes, in Valencia, London, and Paris, she would offer her impromptu drawings of people to them for a small fee. But never the ones like this. Never ones that could reveal something to a person about themselves that they would rather live in ignorance of. She felt she had done an extreme injustice in letting that drawing fall into Adam's hands.

"If you weren't sad, I don't think I would have found you as I did last night," she finally offered and he exhaled a gruff breath, rubbing his face and, in doing so, accidentally leaving smudges of charcoal in his wake. Evidently some had rubbed off onto his fingertips while he was flipping through her drawings, and Belle bit her lip at the sight. She certainly couldn't lick her thumb and wipe it away, like she would if it were her own face. Opening her mouth to tell him, she ended up being cut off by a trill of, "Darling! There you are!"

Turning their heads at the same time, Belle and Adam caught sight of Marie approaching, surrounded by a group of other ladies who were accompanied by Mr. Andrews and the Earl of Avignon. Adam quickly regained his composure as they neared.

"We wondered where you wandered off to. You've missed half the tour," Marie informed him, adjusting his jacket on his shoulders, furrowing her brow at the sight of his dirty face but saying nothing about it.

"I was just having a conversation with Mademoiselle Delacour. We met last night," Adam justified his sudden disappearance, but the simple answer didn't seem to appease his father.

"And who, _puis-je demander_ , is Mademoiselle Delacour?"

Belle felt rather unsettled by the Earl's firm gaze, and further unsettled by the clear distaste found in it. While no one had, as of yet, commented on her being on the top deck, he seemed to be a few seconds away from doing so.

Adam was floundering. How was he to explain that they had met when she saved him from pitching himself over the edge of the ship?

"She's… That is, we… I…"

"Oh, don't be so modest," Belle quickly sprang to his rescue, offering the group a smile, "He saved my life."

"My god!" Marie gasped, looking up at Adam, "Darling, is this true?"

"I…" Meeting Belle's intent gaze, he cleared his throat before nodding with certainty. "Yes. Yes, it's true." Quickly recalling the story that she sold the guards last night, he continued, "You remember when I slipped away last night, due to seasickness?"

"Of course," Marie agreed, nodding. "We were so worried!"

"Well…" Adam scratched his cheek, and it took everything Belle had not to snicker when he managed to smudge more of the charcoal on his skin. "When I went to the stern to get some air, I encountered Mademoiselle Delacour. She'd been leaning over the edge, trying to see the propellers, and she… slipped."

There was a gasp from the crowd, and Adam quickly finished before they could ask too many questions that he wouldn't be able to answer, "I grabbed her before she could fall. She had quite a fright, but… she's alright now."

"Oh, you poor thing! How dreadful!" Marie gasped, taking in Belle properly for the first time, followed by positively beaming up at Adam. "Why, my fiancé is a hero!"

"Quite right, he is!" Madame Potts agreed, and Chip gaped at Belle with wide eyes.

"Did you _really_ fall over the edge of the ship?"

"Almost," Belle lied easily, looking pointedly down at him, "So you'd best make sure you're extra careful when playing up here. It's not a fun experience."

"She is _absolutely right_ ," Madame Potts agreed, looking down at her son, "You listen to her, now! You remember how you were running about yesterday? That could have happened to you."

"It would be quite dreadful to really fall," Adam agreed, casually adding, "I've heard there are sharks."

"Miss, you really must be more careful. Machinery like the propellers is not to be taken lightly. You should never have gotten so close to the edge," Mr. Andrews cautioned her, prompting the Earl to finally speak up.

"She shouldn't have been _up here_ at all. Just look at her dress! And that sweater – it has _holes_ in it. I don't believe your ticket permits you to mingle about in the upper class areas, _Mademoiselle Delacour._ "

Blushing at being called out, Belle had half a mind to tell the Earl off, to inform him that, had she not been up here, his son would surely be dead, but that wasn't her place.

"Now, Lord d'Avignon; there's no need to cause a fuss. I don't think she was hurting anyone-" Mr. Andrews interjected, and the Earl whipped his head around to face him.

"Not hurting anyone? She could have pulled my son over the edge with her! She had no right to be up here-"

"Oh, Father, _do shut up_ ," Adam finally snapped, narrowing his eyes and pursing his lips. If only he knew the truth of the matter. That Belle had prevented him from falling over the edge, and he owed her his life for being up here when she was. Turning to face her, his next question was both a silent 'thank you' and an attempt to spite his father. "Belle, will you join us for dinner this evening?"

" _What_ did you just say-?!" the Earl snapped, horrified, but Marie cut him off this time.

"Oh, darling, that's a wonderful idea! Miss Delacour, we would _love_ for you to come to dinner. Then you and Adam can recount his heroic tale for all of our friends. You'll come, won't you?"

Belle hardly felt that it was her place to say no, and she certainly wasn't one to turn down a good meal when it was offered. Hugging her drawings tightly to her chest, she nodded with a small smile.

"I'd be delighted," she agreed, and Adam grinned.

"Wonderful! You shall be our guest of honour," he concurred, and Belle repressed her amusement at how ridiculous that sounded whilst he had charcoal on his face. So prim and proper, and still so oblivious.

"I suppose I'll see you tonight, then," she agreed, and the group all murmured their goodbyes before continuing on, and Belle couldn't help her quiet laughter when she heard Marie finally ask, "Darling, what _is_ that all over your face?"

"I'm not sure if you realize what you've just agreed to, poppet."

Jumping when she realized that one of the women had remained back, Belle turned to face Madame Potts, quickly smoothing her skirt down in an attempt to look halfway decent.

"I'm sorry?" she asked, and the older woman tutted.

"It's the snake pit, dearie. They all seem sweet and charming, but they'll tear you to shreds at the first chance."

Belle was tempted to remark that the Earl hadn't seemed at all sweet and charming, but bit her tongue lest her invitation to dinner be revoked for such a comment. Instead, she focused on Madame Potts, who was asking, "What, precisely, do you plan to wear?"

"Oh. I… um…"

Glancing down, Belle gestured half-heartedly to her dress, sweater and boots. They were all that she owned. Madame Potts tutted again at the feeble gesture, taking Belle by the hand, her other still clutching at her son's.

"Don't worry over it. My niece is just about your size. I had a dress made for her while I was in Paris, but I don't think she'll mind if it's a bit warn. I'll just tell her it's the latest French fashion trend."

She tittered with amusement at her comment, and Belle smiled curiously, letting Madame Potts pull her along. She was nothing like the aristocrats Belle had come across prior to this; she was… _genuine_.

* * *

"-and if you'll follow me to the left, I'll show you to the engine room."

Walking along the deck with their group while Mr. Andrews led the tour onward, Marie hanging on his arm, Adam frowned.

"Monsieur Andrews – how many passengers did you say are aboard _Titanic_?"

Pausing in guiding his tour, Mr. Andrews glanced back at the young man, noting his troubled expression. "Roughly two-thousand and two-hundred souls are aboard, my lord."

"Forgive me, but…" Glancing over his shoulder, Adam's frown deepened, "…there don't seem to be nearly enough boats for that many people."

"Ah…" Clearing his throat, Mr. Andrews nodded, gradually walking onward at a slower pace. "There are enough for about half, my lord."

"Half? Surely you must be joking," Adam countered, but Mr. Andrews shook his head.

"I assure you, my lord, I am very serious. I petitioned to have more boats added – I even designed the ship so there would be room for another row. But… the board thought it would make the deck look too cluttered, and I was overruled."

"Aesthetics overruled the fundamental safety of human lives?" Adam asked, frowning deeply, and Mr. Andrews nodded.

"I share your disdain entirely, my lord, but there was nothing I could do. I'll keep petitioning, I assure you."

"Petitioning at all seems a bit silly," Marie joked, chuckling as she added, "What need is there for lifeboats at all on a ship that's unsinkable?"

The group laughed along with her, but Adam continued to frown, muttering, "Nothing that floats is entirely unsinkable."

* * *

"Now, would you look at that! Chip, doesn't she look just like a shiny diamond?"

Standing beside Belle, whom she had dragged along to her suite, Madame Potts beamed at the sight of the young woman's reflection in the large gilded mirror. She'd had one of the maids help her get Belle into the dress that had been intended for her niece; it looked, and felt, expensive. Belle was certain that the underskirts were made of silk, and the top layer sparkled so much that it made her wonder if the golden thread really _was_ made of gold. It felt bizarre, to look in the mirror at the face staring back at her. It wasn't… _her_.

This girl didn't look like she'd ever slept under a bridge, or gulped pints of beer during a poker game, or drawn nude portraits of both women and men from life. She looked… _classy_. Madame Potts had used a flurry of products and contraptions to make Belle's hair curl, and then proceeded to pin parts of it up with golden barrettes that looked nearly as expensive as a ticket to board this ship would be. Apparently, the older woman had been a lady's maid before her husband obtained his fortune, meaning she was a wiz with hairpins. Belle felt that there was no possible way the Earl could sneer at her now.

"You look _really_ pretty," Chip agreed, beaming, and Belle offered him a smile in return, feeling a laugh bubble out of her. This was all _mad_. Completely and utterly mad. She was about to eat in the finest dining room to ever grace the seven seas! Plumette would never believe it. Belle only wished she'd had a chance to run down and tell her friend the crazy news, but Madame Potts had insisted that getting Belle ready for dinner would take all of the time they had before the meal was served. Apparently, it was rude to go to a fancy soiree without having a proper bath first.

"Come, now; let's get you into these slippers and away we go. We don't want to be late!"

Handing Belle a pair of silk, yellow shoes, Madame Potts ushered her son toward the door, and Belle quickly put them on before hurrying after the pair of them. There was still the pressing issue that she had no idea how to _act_ at this dinner – but, then again, what harm could there possibly be in just being herself? It certainly seemed to be enough for Adam, and he was the one who had invited her in the first place. Well, he had invited, and the young woman who fluttered around him constantly had insisted. Belle had a sneaking suspicion that Miss Oh-You- _Must_ -Come had something to do with the fact that he felt "trapped" …

* * *

"You remember what I told you last night."

Pausing in adjusting his bowtie, Adam frowned at the sound of his father's voice, not turning to face him. Instead, he kept his gaze locked on the mirror as he said, "How could I forget? You were very aggressive about it."

"That ring is the key to squashing any rumors that may be circulating about our depleting fortune, Adam! You must give it to Marie tonight. If you don't, I assure you that there will be consequences."

Ignoring the latter part of his father's rantings, Adam turned around, checking his cufflinks before meeting his father's gaze.

"Are they really rumors if they're true, Father? Our fortune isn't 'depleting'. It's _gone_. You saw to that by _buying_ that damn ring in the first place."

"That _damn ring_ is going to ensure our future! Don't _press me_ , boy."

Scoffing, Adam cast one last glance at the mirror before walking over to stand eye-to-eye with the Earl.

"I can assure you, Father, that the _damn ring_ is going to do nothing of the sort. Marie has already agreed to marry me, and she already _has_ a ring. _Mother's_ ring! If you ask me, that's a far more precious gift than some stupid trinket worn by a queen who had her head lobbed off."

"Oh, don't be so _idiotic_ ," the Earl sneered, shaking his head at his son, "She is a _woman_. A daft, dimwitted woman who cares far more for trinkets than she does about _sentimentality_. You will give her the ring if you know what's good for you."

"Are you _really_ going to threaten me? _Now_ , when your future depends on my going through with this marriage? Because I don't give a damn about our fortune. The estate can crumble to the ground for all I care."

"Why you _insolent_ -!" the Earl began to shout, but his string of curses was cut off by a knock on the door of Adam's private room. His blue eyes smoldering with irritation and a silent challenge, never leaving his father's face, the young lord d'Avignon said, "Enter."

Opening the door, Lumiere took a step inside, clearing his throat before speaking. It was clear that he had interrupted a rather intense moment, and he wished to get out of here as quickly as possible.

" _Mes seigneurs_ , Mademoiselle Dockery wishes to know if you are ready to depart for the dining room. She has finished dressing, and is quite peckish."

"We are," the Earl stated, glaring at Adam for a moment longer before turning on his heel and brushing past Lumiere. Quickly stepping aside so as not to be pushed, the valet glanced at Adam with an arched eyebrow. In turn, Adam sighed.

"You don't want to know, old friend. Repeating his drivel would be a waste of your time, and of mine."

Lumiere nodded, following Adam out to the drawing room where Marie was waiting, already having taken the Earl's arm. Adam didn't want to know what his father's intentions were in escorting his fiancée. Choosing not to ask or protest, he stepped out of the room once Lumiere opened the door, walking with the three of them toward the dining room. Of course, in the heat arguing with his father, Adam had all but entirely forgotten about the guest who would be joining them for dinner; his mind had been elsewhere, in the safe with that damn ring. So, upon hearing Marie's gasp when they paused at the top of the stairs, he didn't even consider what could have possibly caused that reaction.

"Is that really the same girl from earlier? She looks positively divine! Adam, don't you think she looks divine?"

Turning his head away from the intricate clock he had been examining, Adam followed Marie's gaze to the foot of the stairs, feeling his own eyes widen. Surely that wasn't _Belle_? Where could she have gotten such fine attire, and on such short notice? She looked more than just divine; she looked… _radiant_.

"More like a wolf in sheep's skin, if you ask me," the Earl remarked, and Marie tittered good naturedly, but Adam could tell her heart wasn't in it as they walked down the stairs together. Moving to follow them, his eyes never leaving Belle, he felt his cheeks flush slightly when she finally turned and caught him staring at her. And then, recalling that drawing he'd discovered this afternoon, he _remembered_.

Yesterday, almost exactly twenty-four hours to the minute, he'd seen her. He had been staring at the sunset and became overwhelmed with that eerie feeling of being watched, prompting him to look down and catch the eyes of his onlooker. A beautiful girl, slightly rumpled, with hair that was almost gold in the evening sunlight. He'd been just as mesmerized as she was, staring intently back, but then Marie had come out and stolen his attention.

Evidently, his near-death experience had been enough to make him forget about a moment that small, but he wasn't likely to forget about it again. She'd seen something in that moment; she'd seen right through him, enough to draw him in a way that perfectly expressed how he was feeling inside – something that no one else saw.

Meeting her at the foot of the stairs, Adam offered a smile, taking her hand in his and bowing at the waist in order to bring it to his lips. Belle flushed at the gesture, but smiled in return as he kissed her hand, an involuntary giggle escaping her.

"I thought people only did that in motion pictures," she commented, and he grinned even more, straightening out enough to help her take his arm, leading her toward the dining room.

"You're a vision," he commented, grinning all the while, "and ladies as stunning as you are to be treated with the utmost respect and charm."

"You're making me blush," she chided with another giggle as the footmen opened the double doors to the dining room for them, and Adam shrugged his shoulders as he escorted her over to their group's table.

"Blushing is a fine quality in a lady," he remarked, earning a laugh, and he opted to do her the kindness of pulling out the empty chair between Madame Potts and Mr. Andrews for her; he would never force her to sit near his father. Once she was situated, he made his way over to his own seat between the Earl and Marie. He noted absently that Lumiere must have excused himself to go and dine with the other valets; he'd been so enraptured by Belle that he hadn't even noticed.

"Isn't she just the loveliest thing you've ever seen, Tom?" Madame Potts asked Mr. Andrews, who smiled politely and nodded.

"You look very fine, Miss Delacour."

"Belle, please," she corrected him, clasping her hands in her lap, "Do call me Belle."

"Tell us, Belle," Marie eagerly chimed in as servants came around, pouring champagne into everyone's glasses. "Where is it that you're from?"

"Well, I was born in Paris, but raised in a small town called Villeneuve," Belle explained, and Marie continued to smile brightly.

"Why, that's so charming! I love small towns. Brooklyn is sort of a small town, isn't it, Mr. Ismay? I'm quite fond of Brooklyn."

The ship-builder offered the young woman a smile, nodding as he lifted his glass of champagne.

"I believe it's more of a small city than a town, Miss Dockery, but it is very quaint – if a bit… loud."

"Oh, don't ever let size convince you of volume," Belle added, laughing to herself. "Villeneuve may have been small, but it was very loud at the best of times."

"You speak of it in the past tense," the Earl observed, glancing at her from across the table. "Where is it that you live now, Mademoiselle Delacour?"

Belle didn't miss the fact that he very pointedly refused to call her 'Belle'. Smiling slightly, she lifted her own champagne glass, answering, "Well… here and there, really. I haven't a set address. I prefer to travel."

"Belle is an artist, Father," Adam spoke up, smiling at her from his own seat across from her. "She has extraordinary talent. She's going to do great things in New York."

Blushing happily at the praise of her work, Belle sipped her champagne, setting her glass down as the Earl remarked, "My son and I have very different taste in what counts as fine art." Plastering on a false smile, he added, "No offense, Mademoiselle."

"None taken," she assured him, although the dig at her had been very obvious. Madame Potts didn't exaggerate; the Earl pretended to be nice, but he was clearly eager to rip her to shreds. This was further exemplified when he asked, "You're a vagabond, then? Floating from place to place? That's really no way for a woman to live."

"I assure you, I'm quite happy with my way of life," Belle disagreed, maintaining her smile as caviar was served to everyone at the table, and she did her best to not appear disgruntled when the Earl continued to have at her.

"How ever do you have the means to travel? An unmarried woman aboard a ship is rare enough as it is, but an _artist?_ Surely there's no money in that. No one has ever heard of a great female painter. I certainly wouldn't have one doing my portrait, or my son's."

Bristling, Belle shook her head when one of the servants offered her caviar.

"No, thank you. I was never fond of the stuff." Turning to face the Earl again, she remarked, "I do quite well for myself, your lordship. I get by on my talent and my wits; I happened upon my ticket aboard the _Titanic_ in a lucky game of poker. The gentleman who I beat was just as shocked as you are, but he never should have underestimated me."

"Poker!" Marie gasped, her eyes wide, pausing her caviar halfway to her mouth. "That's fascinating! I've always wanted to learn to play, but my father refused to teach me. He always said gambling wasn't a sport for women to take part in."

"Quite right it's not," the Earl snapped, glaring at Belle, but she took no fear in the man's gaze. Instead, she turned to Marie with a smile.

"I could teach you, if you like. It's quite easy, and winning gives you such a rush."

"Would you?" Marie asked, and Adam had to hide his amusement behind the rim of his champagne glass as the Earl's face grew red with anger. This was even better than he had hoped it would be.

"You're no better than a common thief," the Earl snapped, glaring at Belle, and the laughter and chatter at the table fell into uncomfortable silence. "You stole your ticket from a man who spent his hard earned money on it. Who's to say you aren't pickpocketing us right now? Who gave you that dress, _oui_? Did you steal that, too?"

" _I_ gave it to her," Madame Potts spoke up, frowning pointedly at the Earl, "and I suggest you hold your tongue, your lordship, before you say something that you'll regret. So far tonight, Belle has shown far more exemplary behavior than you have. I won't have my son picking up on your hot-headed rudeness."

"I suggest you listen to her, sir," Mr. Andrews agreed, frowning as well. "The lady has done nothing wrong – and, might I remind you, she is your son's guest."

" _Guest,_ " the Earl sneered, but thankfully fell quiet, his face still red. Marie, however, was too fascinated to let the subject drop so easily.

"How ever did you beat a man for a prize so big?"

"The odds were just in my favour, I suppose," Belle told her with a smile, grateful when food that didn't consist of fish eggs arrived, accepting a dinner roll from her server. "That's all life is, really; a game of chance. Sometimes you get lucky, and sometimes you don't. It makes life a thrill; you never know what to expect, from one day to the next."

"That sounds marvellous," Adam stated, without really thinking about it, blinking when he realized all eyes had turned to him. Why should he, a well stationed lord, want to live by the seat of his pants? Well, it felt like an easy answer to him; you never had to _dread_ anything. His entire life has been an endless pattern of dread; dreading the next slap from his father, dreading cotillions, dreading his impending earldom, dreading his own marriage – dreading giving Marie that bloody ring. _Dread, dread, dread_. What he wouldn't give to just live on the edge for once, like Belle. What he wouldn't give to _be_ like Belle, so brave and carefree.

"I… just mean the sense of adventure," Adam quickly corrected himself, finding that, without really meaning to, he ended up quoting Belle from earlier that afternoon. "You never know when a day may be your last… We aught to make every one of them count."

Belle offered him a soft smile, lifting her glass at his sentiment. She may not have known much about high society, but she knew that they loved their toasts.

"To making it count," she chimed and everyone – save for the Earl – lifted their glasses as well, chiming, "To making it count."

For the rest of the meal, much to the Earl's disdain, everyone was thoroughly charmed by Belle – Adam included. Her vibrancy, her quick wit, her kindness toward Chip and Marie; she awed him. The latter two had an endless stream of questions for her, about poker and art and 'making everyday count', and she never skirted a single one. By the end of the meal, it seemed as if she would never get away from the aristocrats who would have sneered at the sight of her earlier in the day.

"Oh, Belle, won't you join Madame Potts and I for a game of bridge? We would love to hear more of your stories," Marie gushed as everyone stood up to leave, the men preparing themselves for another evening of cigar smoke and brandy. Belle smiled at the offer, but politely shook her head.

"It's kind of you to ask, but I really aught to get back to my part of the ship. My bunk mate will be worried about me; I never told her where I was going," she explained and Marie smiled, surprising Belle with a hug before excusing herself to bid Adam goodnight. Madame Potts was grinning from ear-to-ear.

"My dear, I would call this a _rousing_ success. You could have been a grand duchess, with how they were all fawning over you!"

Chuckling, Belle shook her head, affectionately ruffling Chip's messy hair. "Oh, I don't know about that. But it was quite fun…" Lowering her voice, she added, "Once everyone got past the Earl's stuffiness."

"Oh, don't mind him. He's as cranky as they come at the best of times. That poor boy; I don't know how he's done it."

Frowning slightly, Belle cast a glance in Adam's direction. He was currently kissing Marie's hand, bidding her goodnight, and Belle bit her lip. "How he's done what?"

"Put up with that father of his for all these years. I've never seen the man say a single kind word to him in all the months that I've known them. Why, if Mr. Potts ever spoke to little Chip like that, I'd…" Bristling, she took a breath and shook her head. "Well, we won't talk of what I'd do."

"That's terrible," Belle stated, her eyes still on Adam, feeling a strange tightening sensation in her chest. She could barely stand one dinner with the Earl. How has he made it through decades of them, day after day?

Forcing herself to look away, Belle turned to Madame Potts with a faint smile. "Shall I return your dress to you before I head back? I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate it-"

"Oh, now, now. Enough of that." Grinning fondly, Madame Potts patted Belle's cheeks. "You keep it, poppet. I can always buy my niece another. This one suits you far too much for me to take it back."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly-"

" _Keep it,_ " the older woman urged, taking Chip by the hand to lead him back to their suite. "Every young woman needs a good party dress. Goodnight, Belle, dear!"

"Bye, Belle!" Chip called, as well, with an enthusiastic wave and Belle smiled slightly.

"Goodnight," she responded, still stunned by Madame Potts generosity, but it only lasted a few moments before her thoughts returned to Adam. Poor, miserable, _trapped_ Adam; after a dinner with his father, and all of the Earl's harsh comments, suddenly his actions from last night made far more sense.

Glancing around quickly, already formulating a plan, Belle made quick work of pulling a pencil and a scrap of paper from where she had wedged them into her garter beneath her skirts when Madame Potts wasn't looking. Drawing was her bread and butter, after all; she couldn't just come to a soiree without her tools. Quickly scrawling out a note, she crumpled the paper in her hand and re-hid the pencil before walking over to where Adam stood with his valet, intending to say goodnight.

"Well, that was quite an experience," she mused, and he smiled as he turned his attention to her, nodding in agreement.

"I hope my father didn't put you off too much," he half apologized and Belle shook her head, laughing at the prospect.

"It takes a lot more than a disgruntled, puffed up windbag to take me down," she stated, earning what may have been the heartiest laugh she'd heard him utter in the short time they had known each other. Even Lumiere snickered, glancing over at where the Earl was conversing with Mr. Ismay.

"A disgruntled, puffed up windbag is what I've been wanting to call him for years," the valet murmured, and Adam grinned wickedly.

" _Quite right_ ," he agreed, and Belle grinned at the sound of his repressed laughter. Taking his hand in hers, she attempted a halfway decent curtsy, subtly slipping the note into his palm in the process.

"While I appreciate you being such a gracious host, I'm afraid I must retire," she joked in a posh tone, "My coach turns into a pumpkin at midnight, and this dress will turn to rags."

Adam laughed again, but it was a far more curious sound when he realized what she had given him. Making a point of kissing her hand again, he gave it a subtle squeeze.

"The pleasure was all mine, m'lady. Will we meet again?"

"Soon, I hope," Belle agreed, releasing Adam's hand so that the note stayed clutched between his fingers. Nodding at Lumiere with a smile, she slipped from the dining room. Once she was gone, Adam turned his back to the other men, glancing at Lumiere with a raised eyebrow as he showed him the crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

" _Sacré bleu!_ " Lumiere whispered, making sure no one was looking before taking a small step closer to Adam. "A secret message. What does _ma chère mademoiselle_ say?"

Unfolding the crumpled note, Adam read it aloud, his lips morphing into a curious grin.

" _Make it count. Meet me at the clock._ "

Lumiere chuckled under his breath, and Adam's grin grew at the sound. Lifting his gaze to the valet, he arched an eyebrow.

"Care to accompany me, old friend?"

"Oh, I would be delighted, _mon seigneur_ ," he responded, double checking that they weren't being watched before nodding for Adam to duck out the doors.

In the excitement of finally having a little adventure of his own, Adam subsequently forgot all about his father's threats.

 _And the ring_.

* * *

Perhaps it was crazy, inviting a French lord to come to a party in third class. But, then again, he had invited her to experience a taste of _his_ world, so why shouldn't she return the favour? Besides, it was bound to be fun; she'd heard several of the Irish passengers talking about it early this morning. Lots of beer, music, and dancing. A far cry from an aristocratic party, by any standards.

"Belle?"

Turning away from the clock at the sound of Adam's voice, Belle grinned as she met his gaze, noting that he brought his valet along with him. No harm done; he seemed far more relaxed than the other servants she had seen today.

"Do you want to go to a _real_ party?" she questioned and Lumiere's eyes were quick to light up.

"A _party!_ Mademoiselle, you are my kind of girl."

Grinning, she arched an eyebrow at Adam who blinked a few times. Clearly "party" hadn't been what he was expecting her to say. What _had_ he been expecting? A musty poker game?

"Well?" she asked him, and he cleared his throat, glancing up at her uncertainly.

"Would I be… _welcome_ at this party?"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," she tutted, crossing her arms over her chest. "You'll be far more welcome there than I was at yours. Are you in or not?"

"Come on, _mon seigneur_ …" Lumiere encouraged him, grinning from ear-to-ear, "It could be _fun_ …"

After another moment of deliberation, Adam glanced down at the note still clutched in his hand. _Make it count_. If these were his last few days of freedom, why shouldn't he have a little fun? Smirking when he lifted his gaze again, he let Belle take their hands in hers.

"Where, exactly, is this party?"

* * *

Without a doubt, Belle's 'party' was unlike any that Adam had ever been to. For one thing, it wasn't invitation only; it seemed that everyone in third class, children included, were there. They were all mingling and laughing and shouting and singing and dancing and drinking like the world may end tomorrow. It was… _invigorating_.

"I've never heard so much noise in all my life!" Adam shouted to Belle and she grinned, letting go of his hand to grab the three of them all tall glasses of dark beer, thrusting one into his hand. He looked down at it with wide eyes; normally, he consumed alcohol in cut crystal glasses, and it was only ever the finest decanted liquors. What he was currently holding was the exact opposite; he didn't even know where it was made. _How extraordinary_.

"That's the sound of the living, your lordship!" she shouted back to him, taking a long gulp of the beer in her hands, laughing when a group of children ran past them, hands locked together, spinning in circles to the music. One of them bumped into Adam's leg, making him jump, and they didn't even apologize! _My,_ how different Belle's world was.

"Is it always like this down here?" he asked over the noise, and she shrugged, taking another drink before answering him.

"Most nights. The days are long and boring in steerage, but at night? That's when we come alive." Flashing him a devilish grin, her eyes lit up when she caught sight of someone from across the room, and she eagerly waved her friend over. Belle seemed entirely oblivious of the fact that she was still wearing an evening gown; down here, none of that mattered. A dress was a dress. People were people. Class was an irrelevant subject.

"Plumette! Come and meet _mes amies!_ "

A young woman rushed over to them at Belle's request, her dark hair falling loose around her shoulders, her own glass of beer in hand. She looked just as radiant as Belle, and as if she'd been dancing from the very moment the music began.

" _Ma chèrie!_ You look _magnifique!_ " she gasped, taking in the dress, and Adam felt a grin pulling at his lips. Belle may pay no mind to her attire, but clearly not everyone was oblivious to how gorgeous she currently looked. He was finding it exceptionally hard not to stare, even down here.

"Where have you been?" Plumette asked, and Belle waved a dismissive hand at the question, as if none of it was any big deal.

"Dining in first class. I'll tell you all about it later. But right now, I'd like you to meet… _Adam_ ," she stressed, given remembering his entire mouthful of a name after hearing it only once was simply too much to ask, especially with her champagne addled mind, "and… I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," she turned to the valet apologetically, but he was all a-grin, having already taken Plumette's hand and knelt to kiss it.

" _Lumiere, mademoiselle_ ," he all but purred, and Plumette giggled, nearly dropping her glass of beer with surprise.

"Oh! A _gentleman_ ," she cooed in return, turning to kiss Belle's cheek before giving Lumiere's hand a tug. "Come, come! Dance with me!"

"Oh, it would be my _pleasure_ ," the valet agreed, hurrying after her, and Adam exhaled a sound of amusement at his old friend's antics, turning to Belle to comment upon it, but she was nowhere to be found.

"Belle?" he questioned, glancing around for her. He'd been about to say her name again when he finally caught sight of her a few feet away, spinning around on the dance floor with a little boy, no more than five or six years old. He found himself awestricken by the sight; she looked so… _free_. The golden skirts of her dress were whirling about each time she and the little boy spun around, and her laughter was audible even over all of the noise. She'd said earlier that day that he was beautiful, but she was wrong. He wasn't beautiful. _She_ was beautiful. Never before had a name been so fitting.

He was so mesmerized by the sight that he experienced quite a jolt of surprise when someone smashed into him, making him splash beer onto his white shirt. His eyes widened with shock, and he looked up just in time to hear a London accent shout, "Sorry, mate!" before the culprit was lost in the crowd. Surprising even himself, Adam started to laugh. Had such a thing happened at one of _his_ parties, it would have caused a scene. Threats would have been made by his father. Someone would've been kicked out. Servants would have been fussing over a potential stain. But here, in Belle's world? It was just a quick apology, and then back to the dancing and laughter. It was _wonderful_.

Shrugging off his jacket, he loosened and pulled off his bowtie, intent to at least fit in if he was going to be here. Tossing them carelessly over the back of a chair, he joined in clapping with everyone else when the song wound to a close, grabbing the glass of beer that Belle had given him and taking a long gulp from it. It tasted absolutely _foul_ , and he loved every horrid sip of it.

"I'm going to dance with him now, alright?"

Setting his glass aside, he looked up when he heard Belle's voice nearby again, catching sight of her crouching in front of the little boy and nodding in Adam's direction. The boy seemed rather disgruntled, and Adam couldn't help laughing, nor could he blame the lad. Who wouldn't be disgruntled at having Belle's attention stolen away?

Grinning when she approached him, he chuckled when she remarked, "Look at you! You're practically one of us. Here…" Reaching up, she messed with his hair enough that his bangs fell down onto his forehead, and he was certain he looked far more unruly than gentlemanly, but he didn't care. For once in his life, he didn't have a care in the world.

"Dance with me!"

Well, perhaps he had one care. Or, rather, one _fear_.

"I, ehm… I don't know the steps," he tried to dissuade Belle, but she wouldn't have any of it. As another fast paced Irish tune began wafting through third class, she pulled him out onto the dance floor with her.

"No one does. You just move with the music," she instructed him, curling their fingers properly around each other's before positioning his other hand at her lower back, resting hers on his shoulder. He gulped; ballroom dancing he could handle, but this? This was all spinning and twirling and dipping and… and madness!

"Belle, I really don't think-" he tried again to object, but she still wasn't listening to his protests.

"We'll need to get closer together. Tighten your arm around me," she instructed, and he gaped at her for a moment before doing as she told him, pulling her body flush against his. The action made him blush, but Belle just grinned and, before he knew it, led him in a quick step among hundreds of other dancers, young and old, going from left to right to right to left and around and around in no sensible order at all. It was dizzying, and his heart was pounding in his chest as her skirts twirled and her laughter filled the air. All of his senses were overwhelmed by her and he found that, the longer they were close to each other, the more he couldn't get enough of her.

As they danced, Adam caught sight of Lumiere and Plumette; the two looked to be having the time of their lives, laughing while Lumiere twirled Plumette under his arm again and again. That didn't look so hard. Following his valet's lead, Adam used the hand Belle was holding to spin her around and the action was worth it; she exhaled a sound of pure glee, her skirts twirling more than ever before, and Adam couldn't help it – he laughed. He laughed, and he grinned as he pulled her back in, taking the lead this time around as he danced her about through the crowd. He felt incredibly hot, and his head was buzzing from the champagne and beer, but this was _easily_ the most fun that he'd ever had in his entire life.

Spinning Belle around again, he gasped when she suddenly lurched forward and pulled him in the direction of a table – he thought, perhaps, to take a break. But no. No, Belle climbed onto a chair, and then up onto the table, pulling Adam with her.

"You're mad!" he exclaimed, but he said it with a laugh and she shot him a grin, releasing his hand and lifting her skirts, kicking off the shoes Madame Potts had given her. Grabbing a cigarette from a perfect stranger, she took a deep inhale of the smoke before handing it back to the man she'd taken it from, blowing the smoke out of her lungs before shooting Adam a challenging grin.

"Let's see what you've got, your lordship," she quipped, and he watched with a wide grin and unbridled fascination as she tapped out several complicated steps that looked to have taken years of practice to master. The people surrounding them were clapping eagerly to the music and spurring her on, and they all turned expectantly to Adam once Belle had finished.

For once in his life, he was glad for years upon years of ballroom etiquette lessons. While tap dancing was a skill that he very rarely used, it appeared to come in handy at third class parties.

"Watch and learn, _chéri_ ," he all but purred, somewhat mimicking Lumiere's behaviour from before, and she laughed, her smile widening when he started a fast-paced, elaborate solo dance of his own. It shook the table beneath them, and a glass of beer fell to the ground and shattered. As the tempo of the music shifted, he grabbed Belle's hands and pulled her back to him, using both to spin her in such a way that ended with her back pressed to his chest. She giggled with glee, letting him spin her back out again and guide her through a complicated quickstep he had learned from his _professeur de danse_ , and when the music finally wound to a close he dipped her low and held her there, both of them panting for breath, grinning so widely that their faces may have split in two. There was thunderous applause from the crowd around them, and whether it was for their performance or for the musicians, Adam didn't know. He didn't care.

He was so wonderfully, blissfully happy. He never wanted this night to end, and he never wanted to let Belle go.


	3. Roses

**Chapter 3: "Roses"**

Breakfast was, for once, oddly quiet. Adam hadn't known a single quiet breakfast in his entire life. It had always consisted of his father barking orders, such as, "sit up straight!" "What are you doing, putting _sugar_ in your tea?" and the ever so frequent, "Your mother would be so disappointed in you."

Not today. He'd walked out onto their private area of the ship's deck and sat down, but his father never said a peep. Stranger still was the absence of Marie. She'd joined them for breakfast yesterday, and for luncheon the first day aboard. The Earl had seen to it personally. Today, she was nowhere to be found.

Stirring sugar into his tea, Adam eventually let his gaze flit up from the cup when a servant brought out their _quiche lorraine_ , speaking up once she left their presence again.

"You're oddly silent this morning," he mused, and the Earl simply looked up from his complimentary newspaper before looking back down when the servant girl returned, dishing them each a portion of the savory breakfast. Strangely enough, Adam was unable to enjoy the silence. If anything, it was making him uneasy. His instincts were screaming at him that this was merely the calm before the storm.

Watching as the servant girl left them yet again, Adam turned his head back to his father, lifting his fork as he stared at the newspaper that the Earl was hiding behind. The headline on the front page was something about a French ocean liner, the _Niagara_ , striking an iceberg. Evidently another ship had been close enough to come to their aid and make repairs to the hull. _Dieu merci_.

"Are you going to tell me _why_ you're so silent? Or am I meant to guess?"

"Oh, _please_ , do guess," the Earl quipped in response, and Adam paused in digging his fork into his breakfast, frowning. Of course. Something _was_ wrong. Something always was.

"I honestly have no idea," he stated, daring to take a bite, and the Earl scoffed behind his newspaper. How was it that he managed to be hostile when Adam couldn't even see his face?

"Oh, you _know_. Don't play me for a fool, boy. _You know_."

"I assure you, I don't," Adam bit out in response, putting his fork back down, and the Earl finally flipped down his newspaper, his gaze frosty and accusatory.

"I noticed you didn't tag along for brandies after dinner. Yet again," he stated, and while it would seem a simple statement of a fact to anyone else, Adam could tell just from his tone that it wasn't. "I made your excuses to the Captain, because I was certain you were doing what we had planned."

"What in God's name are you talking about?" Adam asked, growing tired of the vague commentary rather quickly, and he pursed his lips when the Earl leaned closer to him across the table.

"Were you with Marie last night, Adam? Is _that_ why you skipped socializing with the gentlemen after dinner?"

"Oh, don't be so _ridiculous_. We aren't married yet, why would I _ever_ -?" Adam started to fire back, assuming it had been a lude accusation, before cutting himself off. _Oh l'enfer_.

"The ring," he allowed himself to say before his father could hurl the words at him, swallowing a tad roughly. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have been so nervous about the fact that he had defied his father. He did it often enough, and this particular scenario was an instance in which he gladly would have defied him. But he hadn't done it on _purpose_.

He'd completely forgotten about giving the Prince's Rose to Marie after dinner. She'd bid him goodnight, and that had been the last moment that Marie had so much as crossed his mind – because Belle had filled it completely. Belle, with her secret notes and her laughter and her body close to his as they danced the night away. Belle, teaching him to chug a glass of beer and sing Irish folksongs and have _fun_. Belle, who smelled of charcoal and salt water and the lingering traces of whatever perfume Madame Potts had spritzed on her before dinner.

 _Belle_. He'd been with Belle.

He'd been with Belle, and he had completely forgotten about carrying out his father's stupid plan. Taking a deep breath, Adam opted for honesty – at least, _partial_ honesty.

"I… forgot," he admitted, lifting his teacup and taking a hesitant sip before making himself meet his father's gaze. "All of that fresh air during our tour of the ship yesterday had me completely exhausted. I went to bed as soon as dinner was over. You can ask Lumiere."

"You _lie_ ," the Earl spat at him, slamming his fist down on the table, and the action caused Adam to jump, somewhat out of instinct. It was a terribly familiar action. "Lumiere won't be able to attest to your whereabouts; he was nowhere to be found when I got in from the Captain's quarters. _And neither were you._ "

Swallowing roughly, Adam sat his teacup down on the table, but his stomach was curling with nerves. This was bad. This was _terribly_ bad. He hadn't seen his father this enraged in a very long time.

"I assure you, I was in bed," he stated, but the lie was weakening. There was no way the Earl was going to let this drop.

"You weren't with Marie, and you weren't in your own room. Where were you, Adam?"

"I wasn't-"

" _Where were you?!_ "

Flinching, Adam forced himself to take a steadying breath, steeling his gaze and glaring at his father. He was a grown man, _pour l'amour du Christ!_ He didn't have to answer to him about his whereabouts. It was none of his damn business!

"I was _out_ , having fun, _pour la première fois dans ma putain de vie!_ That's all you need to know! I'm not a child anymore, Father, and I won't be intimidated by your shouting or your threats! You can't _make me_ do anything-"

Everything that followed happened so quickly that it left Adam shell-shocked. The Earl leapt to his feet, toppling over his chair, and leaned across the table with such force that the china rattled. He grabbed Adam's jaw in an iron grip and tugged him forward so that they were at eyelevel, resulting in his son having to grab at the table so as not to fall out of his seat.

"You will _not_ disrespect me! Everything that you have _ever_ had, you've had because of _me!_ All of your _books_ and your _paintings_ and your _precious Professeur!_ I bought you those things with _my_ fortune! The money that you spend is _mine!_ And I won't have you throw away my one chance at re-establishing myself because you want to _have fun_ , you insolent _petit connard!_ "

Shoving him back with enough force that he nearly sent Adam tumbling over the back of his chair, the Earl glared daggers in his direction.

"Now, _tell me where you were._ "

Gripping the arms of his chair tightly so as not to tremble, Adam kept silent and shook his head. He wouldn't speak a word. He daren't. That was one thing he learned as a child; when in trouble, keep silent. You're less likely to be struck that way. The Earl, however, didn't appear to appreciate his silence. He slammed his fist down on the table again, and Adam squeezed his eyes shut, the words tumbling out as a sort of survival instinct. He couldn't stop them. His brain was functioning on autopilot, doing whatever was necessary to avoid a beating.

"Belle! Belle! I was with Belle!"

He kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut, but the sound of his father flipping the table over still pierced his eardrums. China broke and crystal shattered, and he cringed when the Earl harshly slapped his face. No matter how old he got, the feeling was still unbearable. His mother never would have let this happen.

" _You are not to see that filthy little whore again._ Is that understood? If I see you with her, I will _kill_ her."

Adam felt as though he was going to be sick. He didn't even hear his father leave, and ended up flinching out of fear when another hand came into contact with him, no matter how gentle. Evidently Lumiere had heard the ruckus and come out to aid him when the coast was clear.

"Monsieur Adam? It is only me. He's gone."

Forcing himself to open his eyes, Adam continued clutching the arms of his chair, shuddering and exhaling a broken breath of air that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. It had been years since his father flew off the handle like that, and now Belle was in the line of fire, too.

Sweet, gracious Belle, who had done nothing wrong. The thought terrified him, mostly because it was undeniable that the Earl would go unpunished if he hurt her. She was third class; no one would care. No one but Adam.

"Oh, god…" he croaked, looking down at the shattered china and crystal on the deck, sliding down out of his chair and attempting to pick up the pieces. It wasn't the possibility that they may have to pay for it all that troubled him; it was the fact that it was a visual depiction of the strength of his father's rage. He had no doubt in his mind that the man was capable of killing the young woman who had saved his life.

" _Oh, god!_ "

"Oh, mon amie…" Lumiere said quietly, his gaze full of sympathy as he watched the shattered china fall from Adam's fingers, the young man bursting into horrified, breathless sobs as he knelt on the floor. In that moment, it didn't matter that he was a lord and Lumiere was merely a valet; his friend embraced him, and let him break like the glass that surrounded them.

* * *

"You're awfully quiet this morning."

Adam cringed inwardly at the words, so similar to the ones that had started his morning from hell, but he kept his expression relatively placate. Marie was appraising him as they walked, arm in arm, along the top deck. It was a lovely day at sea, if a bit chilly, and this time tomorrow they would be docking in New York. There would be no turning back. No matter what Belle told him the other day, he _was_ trapped. He was trapped by his fiendish father's manipulation.

"I'm just a bit tired," he did his best to assure his fiancée, offering her a feeble smile. "I didn't sleep very well, that's all."

"Seasickness again?" Marie inquired, and he nodded, figuring it was as good an excuse as any. He certainly couldn't tell her the real reason for his reserved, melancholy mood. Marie had a kind and tender heart; he could never burden her with the trials and tribulations that he endured with his father. However, he still felt slightly inclined to protect whatever children of their own they may have in the future. After this morning, he couldn't bear the thought that another generation of innocents could become victims of the Earl's unrestrained rage.

"What would you say about living in New York?" he prompted as they walked, and the suggestion made Marie pause, looking up at him when they stopped moving.

"Are you serious?" she asked, clearly baffled, and he nodded.

"Your family and friends are all there, and… I believe my father could get on just fine at the estate without us taking up space. We'd have to move back once he passes on, to take over his duties, but… I see no reason to remain there until then."

"What's brought this on?" Marie asked, but she was already smiling, clearly thrilled with the idea. Adam wasn't blind; Marie, sociable as she may be, had been terribly lonely in the months she'd spent in Avignon. Most of her time had been spent writing letters to a friend back home. It had made Adam feel even guiltier for not loving her. The very least he could do was ensure her happiness, if they had to go through with this union.

"Oh, I don't know. A desire for adventure, perhaps. I hear the city has… a unique dining scene," he mused and, to his surprise, Marie giggled.

"So you've heard of the shops that the Italians have set up," she stated, resuming walking alongside him. "The food really is quite good – not that my father approves of it. He thinks 'pizza pie' is an undignified dietary choice."

"At least your father gives you the freedom to try it. The cook baked chocolate crème pie once, for a _fête_ , and my father nearly beat me within an inch of my life when he discovered I'd stolen a slice. He feels that sugar is for ladies and horses."

Marie scoffed at that, meeting his gaze and giving her head a small, sympathetic shake.

"I don't know how you've endured it all this time. That man is positively intolerable."

"You have no idea," Adam mumbled, nodding when his bride-to-be excused herself to go and chat with a group of ladies she had met at bridge last night. Really, things could be worse. He could be betrothed to a woman as heartless as his father; the aristocracy was filled with them. Marie was, in all honesty, a dream come true.

He just wasn't in love with her.

"You look awfully glum. Hangover got you down?"

Nearly jumping out of his skin, Adam looked down to find Belle standing beside him, her usual grin gracing her lips. She'd changed back into her regular attire, but her hair was still falling in curly wisps from the styling tools Madame Potts had used last night. It was relatively mussed and rumpled from sleep, but she still looked beautiful.

Terror clenched at Adam's heart and curled deep within his gut. Grabbing her arm, he quickly tugged her into an empty room off to the side of the deck which Adam presumed, from the turned over chairs and tables, was used for storage.

"What are you _doing?_ You can't be up here."

Belle furrowed her brow curiously when he snapped at her, watching as he anxiously peered out the frosted window for any shadow that could indicate someone finding them. He looked even more skittish than he had yesterday when he'd greeted her as she sketched.

"I don't think anyone is going to complain. Except, perhaps, your father, but Mr. Andrews is of higher command on board, and he said-"

" _You can't be up here._ You should be down below, with Plumette and all of the others. What do you want? Why are you here?"

His abruptness caused Belle to frown, and she narrowed her eyes as Adam fidgeted.

"What's gotten into you? You're acting as if my being up here is a great crime, or that it's offended you for some reason-"

"It _is_ ," Adam was quick to snap, swallowing roughly, "and it does."

" _What-?_ "

"Belle, you don't belong up here. This is my world, not yours. Yesterday, you were given a taste but that doesn't mean you _belong_ here, and can come and go as you please, just as my attending a party doesn't mean I belong _down there_. We're two very different people, from two very different classes, and we aught to act as such. Now, you need to _go._ "

"I will do no such thing!" she gasped, frowning deeper the longer he prattled on. "You don't mean a single word of that drivel. This is your father talking, isn't it? He's said something to you. _Don't listen to him_ , Adam – you had fun last night. I saw it in your eyes. Don't let him take that away from you! As for _why_ I came up here, I wanted to talk to you-"

"Well, I don't want to talk to you."

"Don't be ridiculous. You don't mean that-"

"Yes, I do! I'm engaged to be married, to a girl whom I'm very fond of. I won't hurt her by continuing this… _foolishness_ with you."

" _Foolishness_ -?"

Adam could tell that his words were hurting Belle, but he doubted they hurt her nearly as much to hear as they hurt him to say. He wanted nothing more than to stay here with her, to continue the joy she'd brought to his heart last night, but he couldn't. He had to keep her safe – and, to keep her safe, he had to hurt her.

"Last night was a mistake. I should never have met you at the clock – I should have gone back to my suite and been with my fiancée. Now, if you'll excuse me, she's waiting for me outside."

" _Adam_ -!"

"Don't try to speak to me again. I mean it. Leave me alone."

Belle watched with wide, pained eyes as Adam pulled open the door and disappeared back out onto the deck, shutting it behind him. She couldn't believe what he'd just said. He couldn't _possibly_ mean it. All he'd been able to talk about yesterday was how miserable 'his world' made him, and how much he _didn't_ want to marry his fiancée. He'd been miserable – miserable enough to _jump ship_ – but, last night, he was happy. She saw it in his eyes and heard it in his laughter. Truthfully, she had been happy, too.

After they danced until their feet hurt, they'd retreated to a table and grabbed two more pints of beer. Belle had intended to take her own seat, but Adam had pulled her over to perch atop his lap, nuzzling his face into her hair at the crook of her neck. His lips had brushed against her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

" _Let's run away,_ " he'd murmured close to her ear, his arms wound tightly around her waist. " _You and I, when the ship docks. We'll run away together and never look back. What do you say?_ "

Belle had been breathless from dancing, and her head had been spinning from the alcohol buzzing through her veins, but his words still managed to make her heart beat faster and, turning her head to meet his gaze, she had whispered, " _Yes._ "

The rest of the night was a giggly, dizzy blur, but it was one she wouldn't trade for the world. She'd snuck up onto the top deck early this morning to find him and figure out if, whilst sober, he still meant what he had said.

Evidently, he didn't. She shouldn't care so much – they barely knew each other, _pour l'amour de Dieu_. But she did care. She'd grown fond of the sad, beautiful gentleman, and had found that she wanted nothing more than to smuggle him away and make him happy.

Wiping a stubborn tear away from her cheek, she retreated from the storage room and made her way back down to the lower decks.

She didn't notice the Earl watching with satisfaction from the sidelines, a cruel smile gracing his lips as he walked over to join his son and Madame Dockery.

* * *

"Will Belle be joining us for dinner again this evening, Adam, dear?"

Adam glanced up from his tea when Madame Potts spoke, and he couldn't even muster a polite smile. Instead, he merely lifted the cup to his lips, stating, "I don't think so, no."

"Oh, that's a shame. Chip was quite hoping she would. Weren't you, Chip?"

The boy nodded from his seat at the luncheon table between his mother and Adam, and he offered the latter a smile.

"Belle's really nice, and really pretty. And she tells fun stories! Yesterday, while we were getting ready for dinner, she told me a story about a girl who finds a magic castle, and there's a beast that lives inside, but he's not scary like you'd think and he and all of his friends are under a magical spell, and the girl has to-"

"No one cares about such fanciful drivel, lad," the Earl quipped, cutting him off, and Chip frowned weakly before looking down at his croissant, picking at it dejectedly. Adam frowned, wishing with every bit of his heart that he could defend Belle's story and Chip's desire to share it, but the look in his father's eyes kept him silent.

Evidently even speaking Belle's name would put her in irrevocable danger.

* * *

Perched upon her hard bed in the small bunk that she and Plumette were sharing with a mother and her two young children, Belle frowned as she leafed through the sketches she had done aboard thus far, pausing on the one of Adam. She had half a mind to tear it to shreds, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. Curse her tender heart for being so easily touched.

It would be easier to stop thinking about him if everything around her didn't remind her so much of his presence. The golden dress Madame Potts had given her, along with the matching gold barrettes, sat at the foot of her bed. That wasn't all, either; Plumette had brought Lumiere back here with her last night for… a late night dalliance, so to speak, and the valet's heady cologne clung to every inch of the room. It reeked of high class, which made Belle's heart reek of Adam. _Malédictions_ …

Looking up when Plumette entered the room, Belle arched an eyebrow at how out of breath she appeared to be.

"I take it Lumiere had a few moments to spare in his busy, busy schedule?" she teased her friend with a faint smile, and Plumette shook her head, resting a hand over her heart.

" _Non_. Well, _oui_ , but it is not what you think. We just talked. Oh, Belle, _ç'est horrible!_ "

Frowning as Plumette flung herself down beside Belle and grabbed her hands, Belle made herself sit up, her sketch folder slipping off of her lap and onto her bed.

"What's horrible? What's happened? Has he hurt you? I swear, if he's hurt you, I'll-"

" _Non! Ce n'est pas moi!_ Lumiere, he is _wonderful_ \- o', Belle, you cannot even _imagine_ – but it is nothing that he has done. It is what he has _told_ me. I may cry just thinking of it."

The young woman pursed her lips fretfully and Belle felt herself growing more concerned. Plumette could be dramatic at the best of times, but this was something different. Something was very wrong.

"What's he told you? Plumette, _tell me_ ," she urged, squeezing her friend's hands, and Plumette met her gaze and drew in a deep breath.

" _Ton amour_ ," she began, her voice wavering slightly, "The charming man from the party – oh, it's _so_ terrible…"

"He's not my _amour_ ," Belle quipped quickly, unable to stop herself from discouraging the concept, but she paused when she remembered the subject at hand. Lumiere had told Plumette of something dreadful. Something that somehow involved Adam. Belle felt her stomach lurch. "Oh, my God; he hasn't jumped, has he? Tell me he hasn't jumped!"

"Jumped-? _Non, non! Non_. It is nothing like that. He is fine… mostly."

"Plumette!" Belle complained, a sense of urgency in her tone, and Plumette quickly continued.

"It is his father. He is a terrible, _terrible_ man. Lumiere was in the foyer, waiting for Monsieur Adam et le Earl to finish breakfast and… he heard shouting, and a terrible clatter. Lumiere says that his father, he… he flipped over the table, and he hit him very hard. He said horrible, _horrible_ things, _ma chére_! He… He said…!"

"What?" Belle urged, feeling an unusual sense of panic setting in. " _What did he say?_ "

"He…" Plumette sniffed, "He said he would… _kill you_ , if he saw Monsieur Adam with you again. _Ma chérie_ , _je suis vraiment désolé!_ I don't know how that bad man found out – perhaps it was my fault, for keeping Lumiere so late? But… Oh, _le pauvre Monsieur Adam!_ He seemed so happy, and now Lumiere says that he… that he…"

"Plumette, _please_ ," Belle begged for her to finish, her heart already clenching, and she felt as if she had been punched in the stomach once Plumette told her the rest.

"Lumiere says that he cried, _ma_ _chérie_. He cried because he is afraid for you."

Without another word, Belle got up and made for the door. She had someone that she needed to speak with. _Now._

* * *

"Something is the matter. Don't try telling me that you're just tired, Adam – don't treat me like I'm a fool. _Please_."

Exhaling a heavy sigh, Adam forced himself to meet Marie's gaze as she sat down beside him. It was so like his own, in so many ways. Would their children have the same sad blue eyes?

Tipping his head back against the headrest of his deck chair, he let his eyes move back up to the reddening evening sky. He'd come out here after dinner, opting to skip dessert; he'd just needed to be alone for a while, with his thoughts, to wallow in his misery so he could at least box it all up and _pretend_ to be happy when they docked tomorrow.

Honestly, it surprised him that Marie took so long to come and seek him out. He'd been sitting here for a good hour, at least. The last time he vanished, she'd come after him, per his father's request, after only a few moments.

"Nothing is the matter, darling. Truly, I'm fine. You needn't worry so much about me."

Marie was quiet for a moment before she said, "That isn't what Belle told me."

Freezing at her words, his blood turning icy, Adam sat up fully and looked at his fiancée, his eyes wide and his heartbeat picking up.

"What are you talking about?" he asked in a rush, "When did you speak with Belle? What has she told you? Whatever it was, I can assure you that none of it is true-"

"Adam, please. _Relax_."

Leaning forward, the poised young American woman took his hand in hers, gently squeezing it. Oddly enough, the gesture did comfort him - a little.

Offering him a small smile, Marie continued, "After you left the table, your father sent me after you again. I tried to insist that we should just let you be, but he wouldn't let up. He said you had something that you wanted to give me."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Adam cursed softly under his breath. Marie, however, just continued speaking.

"I came out to look for you, but I didn't get very far before somebody grabbed my hand and pulled me off to the side. It was-"

"Belle," Adam finished for her, opening his eyes, his expression horribly weary. "What did she say?"

Pursing her lips, a trace of pity in her eyes, Marie said, "She told me about your father. Adam, why didn't you tell me this morning, when I asked you what was wrong? Why didn't you tell me that he threatened you?"

"Because he didn't threaten me," Adam stated, his voice hoarse, "He threatened _her_. And, if you were truly speaking to Belle, I'm sure you know why."

"I do," she confirmed, watching as he let his head loll with shame, but she surprised him by reaching forward and tilting his chin up, her expression as soft and warm as ever. "Darling, I'm not angry with you. How could you think that I would be? We may be engaged, but we are by no means _devoted_ to each other. Yes, I admire you very much, but I don't…"

Blinking, a twinge of surprise running through him, Adam whispered, "You don't love me."

"No. I don't." Her smile was apologetic, and she sighed as she dropped her hand back down into her lap. "I do enjoy our friendship, and I delight in the time that we spend together, but… I don't love you. Not like that."

Adam felt an incredible amount of relief. All of that guilt was finally being lifted off of his shoulders, in the most unexpected way possible.

"I should hate to see this mess of an arrangement keep you from someone who, I believe, _does_ love you," Marie added, "or, at the very least, is beginning to love you."

Furrowing his brow at that, Adam slowly shook his head.

"Belle – she doesn't… we…" Taking a breath, he stated, "We barely know each other. She's kind, and beautiful, and has a wonderful heart, but surely she doesn't-"

"The heart works in mysterious ways, Adam," Marie mused with a small, knowing smile. "It loves who it wants to love, even if it doesn't make logical sense to our heads. Trust me, darling…" Her voice softening, she added, "I know."

Pausing, Adam felt the pieces slowly beginning to come together.

"All those letters that you wrote, to your friend back home… You love this friend, don't you?"

"I do," Marie confirmed, squeezing his hand again, "Very much."

"That's why you were so melancholy in France. You missed him."

Blushing, Marie whispered, "…yes. Something like that."

He furrowed his brow, about to ask her to explain, but Marie didn't give him the chance to press further about her love life back in New York.

"Darling, I have my heart, and you have yours. Considering I can't give mine to you, when it already belongs to another… I would much rather see you give yours to someone worthy of accepting it. Don't let your father spoil the one good thing that you've found in your life. I would like nothing more than to see you happy."

"I… I can't," Adam whispered, his heart aching. "It doesn't matter how Belle feels about me, or even how I feel about her. My father has threated to _kill_ her if he catches us together, and I fear that he means it." Pausing, Adam frowned, adding, "How did Belle even hear about all of this? About my father?"

"Evidently, she and Lumiere have a mutual friend," Marie explained with a faint smile, and Adam blew out a breath. Oh, Lumiere. Meddlesome Lumiere. If his father were to find out that their valet had been passing information along about their private affairs, he would have him fired – or worse.

"It's still too dangerous," Adam disagreed, taking a deep breath. "I appreciate your willingness to let me go free, _truly_ , but… I couldn't put her life in danger to satiate my own selfish heart's desire. It's why I pushed her away to begin with. I can't let anything happen to her."

Smiling faintly, Marie lifted a gloved hand to touch his cheek.

"I don't know about you, but to me that sounds a _great deal_ like love."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Adam drew in a shuddering breath, leaning into her gentle touch. She was so good. So good, and kind, and she deserved all of the happiness in the world. He wouldn't marry her. He'd call the whole damn thing off, no matter what his father may do in retaliation. He refused to trap Marie in a loveless marriage when her heart lay elsewhere.

"I'll cover for you."

Gradually opening his eyes, Adam's brow furrowed.

"What-?"

"Your father thinks you're giving me some sort of gift, doesn't he? If you don't return to dinner or join them all for brandies and cigars, and if I stay away, as well, he'll assume that his plot has worked and that we've… gone off to be _alone_."

His eyes widening, Adam fumbled to speak, but Marie wasn't finished.

"You're going to go and meet Belle and take her back to our suite. I've already spoken to Lumiere; he's promised, wholeheartedly, to go and tell your father that you've taken me to bed and we're to be left alone for the remainder of the evening. He may be a pompous ass," smirking, Marie shook her head, "but I doubt he's fool enough to barge into your private room when there's a chance he could be walking in on the pair of us."

Positively gaping at her at this point, Adam struggled to think of something to say. Finally, he asked, "…you're _serious?_ "

"Very," she confirmed. "Madame Potts has agreed to let me stay in her suite for the night, as well, so I'll be tucked out of sight. I'm going to teach Chip to play bridge."

" _Sanglante_ _l'enfer_ ; is everyone in on this little plan?" he asked and Marie chuckled, getting to her feet.

"You've got a lot of friends, my darling. Now, you'd best be quick, if you want to catch her; I believe she was going up to the bow. She said something about sketching the sunset."

Adam wanted to grab Marie's hand, make her stop, make her explain how all of this could really be happening, because it was all happening _so fast_ , but then it hit him – it didn't matter why, or how quickly it was happening; it _was_ happening. His fiancée, valet, and Madame Potts had come up with an elaborate scheme that would allow him to spend his last night aboard _Titanic_ with Belle.

Belle, who he sincerely needed to apologize to for his harshness with her this morning.

Scrambling to his feet, he took off running for the second time since boarding the ship, but his intentions this time were very, very different.

* * *

Belle hadn't expected Marie to be so _kind_ about everything. Initially, she had only meant to tell Adam's fiancée about the abuse happening behind closed doors – to _warn_ her about the Earl, and to protect Adam.

But then Marie had asked how she found out, and the truth ended up bubbling to the surface. Her first encounter with Adam. The party. His abrupt dismissal of her that morning. Marie, shockingly, had looked… _relieved_.

" _He loves you_ ," she had whispered, laughing, " _It's the only explanation. Oh, Belle, this is wonderful!_ "

Belle had been reasonably confused, but Marie quickly explained away her bafflement, telling Belle all about how it was an arranged marriage. Rooted in money. Both of them were equally miserable, and both of them loved another. Then, she had promised to hatch a plan that would ensure Belle and Adam had at least one last night together, before the ship docked. She'd made Belle swear that she would go up to the bow of the ship and stay there until Adam came, and even pulled her along to their private suite to give her something more suitable to wear than her tattered dress and old blue sweater. Her generosity and kindness were astounding.

Fiddling with the topmost button of the beige, fitted pea coat Marie had given her, Belle bit her lip. She had been put in a soft white dress at the other woman's insistence, and the shoes on her feet pinched slightly, as they were a size too small, but they were warm. Belle had refused, however, to let Marie do anything with her hair, insisting that it was fine as it was and that her newfound friend needed to go and find Adam, before he unwillingly got dragged to have cigars and brandy with the gentlemen. She'd then pulled her own blue ribbon out of the back of her sketch folder and tied her hair back before making her way to the bow of the ship, as she had been instructed.

The sunset was breathtaking. She found herself wondering, as she stared out at the deep water that the sun was glistening on at the horizon, if it was always so still and peaceful. It felt like a good omen for things to come; that maybe, just maybe, her life in New York would be easier. Kinder. Her work would fetch a reasonable price, she could live comfortably, and never have to sleep under a bridge ever again. Maybe, if Marie's plan worked, she could even be with Adam. It seemed like a reasonable possibility; if Marie wanted to be with someone else, having her fiancé run away with another woman seemed like a good enough way to break off an engagement.

Laughing slightly at the irony of how good things had worked out, Belle turned her head when she heard someone softly, hesitantly, calling her name. She was beginning to grow incredibly fond of how it sounded, falling from his lips like that.

"…Belle?"

Cracking a small smile, she kept hold of the railing as she stood at the furthest point of the bow, looking out at the sea.

"You're speaking to me again, I take it?" she asked, but there was no malice behind the question. She understood, now, why he had tried to push her away. He had only wanted to keep her safe. She couldn't say that she wouldn't have done the exact same thing, had the situation been reversed.

Coming up to stand behind her, Adam stayed quiet for a long moment, mulling over her question before he asked, "Can you ever forgive me?"

Belle made a thoughtful noise, as if she _really_ had to think about it, before turning her head to face him with a small, soft smile. "I suppose so."

Mirroring her expression, he put his hands into the pockets of his jacket, glancing out at the water she had been so riveted by. In all the years that he had been taking trips on ocean liners, he had never once before seen the water so still. His attention was pulled from it, however, when Belle spoke again.

"Do you remember what you said to me, last night?" she asked, and Adam let his gaze slip down to fall on her face. Lifting a hand to her cheek, he subtly brushed his fingertips down to her neck, where he had nuzzled his nose last night. Her scent had been intoxicating.

" _Let's run away,_ " he had whispered to her, greedily breathing her in and basking in the happiness she positively radiated. His blood was steeped in champagne and beer, and he'd never been so disheveled in his life, but his head was perfectly clear. " _You and I, when the ship docks. We'll run away together and never look back. What do you say?_ "

He'd waited with bated breath until she drew back to look at him, with those warm brown eyes. When she'd whispered, " _Yes_ ," he had been mere seconds away from kissing her, and he would have done it had Lumiere and Plumette not joined them at that very moment.

"Yes," Adam said softly in response to Belle's question, letting his fingers drop, not wanting her to accuse him of being indecent. "Yes, of course. I remember."

"Did you mean it?" she asked him quietly, her gaze not wavering from his for even a moment. "Do you really want to get off with me when the ship docks? Because my life isn't glamorous. I don't have anything to offer you but myself. Life with me… It wouldn't be easy."

His expression softening, Adam gently took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips and kissing her knuckles, whispering, "No. It wouldn't be easy."

Cracking a smile, he leaned closer, brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear, "But it would be an adventure."

Belle's heart skipped a beat at his words and his confirmation of what she had hoped. He'd meant it. Everything he said last night – _he meant it_. He wanted to be with her, no matter what the world threw at them. Turning around, she let go of the railing and grabbed onto his jacket, tugging him down to meet his lips with her own. There was no hesitancy, no "Monsieur, may I?", there was just… _passion_. She threw every ounce of affection that she had developed for him into the kiss, and her heart thrilled when he finally began to respond, one arm winding securely around her waist to pull her close while the other lifted so he could cup her jaw, tilting her head back in order to allow himself to deepen their kisses, reveling in how she tasted. The sea air whipping around them was cold, but she was warm, so warm, so _impossibly_ warm, and he was never going to let her go ever again. Not so long as he lived.

* * *

The glee in their laughter as they raced back to Adam's suite, hand in hand, was palpable to everyone that they passed, and the onlookers smiled affectionately at the display. With Belle dressed in Marie's clothing, the pair of them looked like a giddy pair of aristocrats in love; no one would have suspected anything less than proper to be going on.

Pushing open the door to his suite, Adam hushed Belle through his own laughter as they hurried inside, clearing his throat before calling out, in a far more dignified tone, "Hello? Is anyone here?"

 _Silence._

Adam grinned, and Belle squealed with surprise when he lifted her up off of the ground, pressing her back against the door and meeting her giggling mouth with an eager, adoring kiss. Marie was absolutely right. I made no logical sense for them to feel so deeply for each other so quickly, but the heart wants what it wants. There's no logic to love. Sliding his lips to her neck, Adam felt a low sound reverberating in his throat when he heard Belle sigh, one hand gripping her thigh to keep her upright while the other was braced against the door.

"Chip tried telling me a story, at luncheon today…" he murmured against her skin between his kisses, and Belle drew in a shaky breath, fluttering her eyes open and peeking down at him.

"Oh…?"

"Mmm…" he hummed, nipping at her throat in a way that made her squeak and shudder with surprise, gripping his shoulders even tighter than before. "About a young woman, who stumbles upon a cursed castle… inhabited by a beast… I'm quite curious to know the rest."

" _Oh_ …" Belle breathed again, her fingers finding Adam's hair, sliding through it and effectively mussing it up as his kisses ventured lower, toward her chest, "You mean _La Belle et la Bête_ … It's an old fairytale… that my father used to tell me… There were so many different renditions…"

"I see," Adam purred, grinning and shifting them so that Belle ended up bridal style in his arms, and she laughed breathlessly with surprise as he made his way to his private section of the suite, pushing the door open with his foot and kicking it shut once they were inside. "Chip insisted that it was _quite_ riveting."

"It is…" Belle agreed, grinning and nuzzling her nose against his neck, her voice as soft as a feather's touch as she began pressing light kisses to his skin, loosening his cravat. "The beast isn't truly a beast; you see… he's actually a prince in disguise, who was placed under a curse by a powerful _enchanteresse_..."

"How dreadful!" Adam gasped theatrically, and Belle exhaled a peal of laughter when he dropped her down onto his bed. She couldn't help marvelling momentarily at how soft it was; it had to be made up entirely of feathers. It was nothing like her hard, spring mattress down below.

"Oh, yes, I suppose – but he deserved it. He was quite a terrible person, and was rather cruel to _l'enchanteresse_. He had no kindness or compassion in his heart, so she cursed him to teach him a lesson."

"What sort of lesson?" Adam mused, slipping the tight, patent leather shoes from Belle's feet as he knelt at the foot of the bed and Belle grinned, letting her head fall back into his pillows. They were even softer than the mattress.

"That beauty is found within…" she sighed, wiggling her toes as he slipped her stockings off, and she giggled quietly when he tickled her feet in response. "The curse had a catch, you see… A reversal clause, of sorts. If he could learn to love, and earn another's love in return, despite his outward appearance, the spell would be broken and he would be a handsome prince again."

"Ah; the plot _thickens_ ," Adam quipped, standing up straight and tugging off his own shoes before joining Belle on the bed, lying beside her and gently taking her hand in his. "The girl that Chip mentioned; I take it she falls in love with him?"

"Oh, not at first," Belle laughed, tangling their fingers together and turning her head to gaze at him with a fond smile as she continued to tell him the story. "You see, the prince went about things in all the wrong ways. The girl came into his company because her father had plucked a rose from the beast's garden, intending to give it to her as a present. The girl's elder sisters had asked for expensive gifts, like rings and necklaces, but all the youngest daughter wanted was a rose. How could he refuse her that?"

"It would be simply barbaric," Adam agreed, kissing Belle's hand before shifting them to wrap his arm around her, pulling her close to his side and pressing another kiss to the top of her head.

"Quite right. So, her father picks the rose, but the beast catches him."

"Oh, _no._ "

"Oh, yes! He's positively furious because, as I told you, he had no kindness or compassion in his heart. He couldn't care less about a father's promise to his daughter, and he made a terrible threat; should the man take that rose, the beast would come to his home and take something in return. The girl's father wasn't frightened by this threat; after all, how could the beast come to his home? He didn't even know where it was."

"How logical of him," Adam mused, nuzzling his nose into Belle's hair, and she grinned as she continued.

"Not very, as it seemed. For the beast had a magic mirror, given to him by _l'enchanteresse_ , that allowed him to see anything he wished to see of the outside world. He saw the man's house – and his beautiful daughter, holding the very rose that the man had stolen from him. It was perfect. He would bring the girl to his castle, and give her everything that her heart desired. She would fall in love with him, and he would be a prince again.

"Of course, it wasn't that easy. He did come for the girl, and he did take her back to his castle, but she wanted none of his expensive offerings. While they would have pleased her elder sisters, the girl had no desire for riches or jewels. None of the beast's gifts made her happy, and she was quite miserable in the castle. Although he insisted she was his guest, she felt more like a prisoner. All that she wanted, deep in her heart, was to see her father again."

Adam found himself listening intently to Belle's story, positively enraptured by her voice. She spoke so eloquently, and with such grace; it was no wonder Chip had been so eager to retell the tale. Gently pulling the ribbon from Belle's hair, Adam set it aside on his night table, lifting a hand to comb his fingers through the curls lingering in her hair from last night as she continued.

"Eventually, the beast stopped trying to win the girl over with his trinkets. Instead, he came to her and explained that he was lonely, trapped in his castle with no one at all to talk to, and how he desperately wanted a friend. You see, when _l'enchanteresse_ cursed him, she cursed all of the people in his castle, as well, and turned them into lifeless, inanimate objects. His once so vibrant valet was a motionless candelabra. His head-of-household had been turned into a mantel clock, and he only ever spoke at the beginning of each hour. The kindly kitchen maid, who had always been so nice to him, had been turned into a teapot. The castle was dark and dingy and terribly, terribly lonely.

"It was the beast telling her the truth about his plight that caused the girl to finally warm to him, for she was kind, and good, and couldn't bear to see anyone be so sad. She still missed her father and her sisters dearly, but she didn't mind being at the castle so much anymore. She and the beast read together, and dined together, and danced together. To his surprise, he fell in love with her.

"But he knew, in his heart, that she wasn't truly happy with him. None of his gifts had pleased her; he was aware that the only thing that would _really_ make her happy was to be allowed to go home. So he set the girl free."

"But that means his curse will never be broken," Adam mused, twirling a piece of Belle's hair around his index finger, turning his head to meet her gaze. "Doesn't it?"

"He thought so," Belle confirmed, nodding. "The longer that the girl was away, the lonelier he became, and he fell into despair. He knew he could never be happy again without her, and he died of a broken heart."

"He _dies_?" Adam gaped, dropping Belle's hair with shock. "That's… That's dreadful!"

Belle had to bite down on her lips to repress her amusement at how involved he had become in the story, pressing a comforting kiss to his cheek before she continued.

"Yes, it _was_ dreadful. Terribly dreadful. Especially for the girl, when she finally came back and found him, cold and still, in the rose garden. She wept, and wept, and wept, for she had always planned to come back to him, and now he was gone and would never know that she loved him, too. She had thought that she might love him, before he set her free, and his display of kindness had solidified her feelings. But, as it turned out, her father was terribly ill when she arrived home, and she had to nurse him on his sickbed until he passed on, because her sisters had abandoned him. They had no love in their hearts, much like the prince had, before he was cursed. The girl stayed at her father's side for six whole months, and then rode to the beast's castle as soon as she was able. The fact that she had lost her father and her beast all in one fell swoop was too much for her to bear and her heart, too, broke."

"This is worse than _Romeo and Juliet_ ," Adam groaned, and Belle made an indignant noise, sitting up to look down at him.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked, prodding his side. " _Romeo and Juliet_ is my favourite play."

"But it's so dreadfully _depressing_ ," Adam argued, wrinkling his nose with distaste. "All the heartache and the pining, and for naught. I read it once and begged Professeur Andrés to burn it afterward."

Belle gasped and swatted his arm, and Adam exhaled a soft " _oof_ ", narrowing his eyes before grabbing Belle's wrists and rolling them over, pinning her down to the mattress with his hips. She sucked in a breath of surprise and looked up at him with wide, doe-like eyes.

Smirking, Adam stroked the inside of Belle's wrists with his thumbs, bending down and pressing a long, slow, passionate kiss to her lips, only drawing back when he was certain she was thoroughly breathless. His eyes alight with wicked mirth, he tangled their fingers together, remaining on top of her.

"What happens next?"

"What…?" she breathed, still dazed from the kiss, and Adam shook with quiet, repressed laughter.

"The story, _mon amour_. What happens after the girl returns and finds the beast to be dead?"

" _Oh._ " Her cheeks flushed from being kissed so thoroughly, Belle took a deep breath, letting go of Adam's hands in favor of wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him closer to her, his head resting on her chest.

"Well… You see… The girl, she wept, and wept, and wept, and she tried kissing him, but nothing worked. Nothing would revive him. Finally, exhausted from so much weeping, she collapsed onto his chest and begged, ' _S'il vous plaît ... Revenez, s'il vous plaît. Vous devez revenir. Je t'aime._ '

"What the girl didn't realize was that _l'enchanteresse_ was listening. Having seen how much the beast loved the girl, and discovering that the girl loved him equally in return, she decided to do the pair a kindness. There was a great gust of wind throughout the rose garden, and it shook the flowers so violently that all of their petals fell off. To the girl's surprise, they began to glow. _Le magique de l'enchanteresse_ made the petals all fall onto the dead beast, completely covering him from view. When another great gust of wind blew them away a moment later, they revealed a handsome prince in his place – and he was _alive._

"The girl was overjoyed to have him back, for she recognized in his eyes that the prince truly was her beast – and the beast himself was stunned not just to be alive, but to be human again. For that could only mean that the girl loved him in return. She insisted that it was true, that she did, and they rejoiced together. All of the people in the prince's castle were turned back from inanimate objects into who they were before the curse, and all was well. There was a tremendous wedding celebration that followed, and _la belle et la prince_ lived happily ever after."

Leaning down, Belle brushed her lips against Adam's, whispering, " _La fin._ "

Grinning at her, Adam traced her jawline with his fingertips, shifting to rest his head upon her shoulder with a sigh.

"Chip was right. That's a marvelous story."

"Children are rarely wrong about these things," Belle agreed, chuckling softly when he nuzzled his nose against her neck, pulling him up and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. When she drew back, he opened his eyes and gazed down at her with wonder.

"I think I can relate… just a little," he mused, and Belle grinned curiously, nodding for him to continue. "To… feeling trapped, and alone, and… hopeless. To no longer believing in love."

Frowning faintly, Belle tenderly cupped his cheek, her other hand combing comfortingly through his hair.

"Because of your father."

He chose not to say anything, instead nodding to confirm her assumption, and Belle felt her heart ache at the sadness in his eyes. How long had this been going on? The shouting, the threats, the _violence_? Tenderly brushing her fingertips over his jaw and his cheek, where Lumiere had told Plumette that the Earl had struck him, Belle leaned up and gently pressed her lips to his skin. He was so kind, and wonderful; he didn't deserve such cruelty.

"You aren't trapped, and you aren't alone," Belle whispered between tender kisses to the twinging skin on his face, letting her hand come to rest at the nape of his neck and drawing back enough to meet his gaze, a certain intensity in her voice as she whispered, " _You are loved._ "

The rigidness in Adam's shoulders gradually eased as her words washed over him, and he felt a slight tremor run through his body. It had been so, _so_ long since anyone had said those words to him. They had been his mother's dying words, to be exact, and the second her fingers went limp in his, his father had taken to proving her wrong. To making sure Adam knew that he _wasn't_ loved. To making every waking moment of his childhood and his youth and his young adult life absolute misery.

Where his father had been darkness, Belle was light. She blinded him in the most incredible ways, and warmed the parts of his heart that hadn't felt anything in decades. She gave him… _hope_.

Shifting their position on his mattress, Adam rolled them both onto their sides so that he could pull Belle close to him and press his lips firmly to hers, his fingers curling into the hair at the nape of her neck as her own flew up to grip at his shoulders, his arms, the hem of his _veste_. Their lips moving with a sort of tender desperation, he shifted enough to help her rid him of his jacket before his fingers eagerly divested her of the pea coat Marie had given her, chucking it carelessly aside. He found himself getting overwhelmed by her again, as he had last night while they danced, but this was so much more intense. While that had merely been her laughter and her scent and her smile, this was her lips, her touch, and her _warmth_. The sheer vibrancy that was Belle Delacour. He loved it. _God_ , he loved it. He loved _her_.

Bless Marie for being so wonderful and insightful, and allowing this to happen. Bless Lumiere, and Plumette, and Madame Potts – bless the entire bloody ship. Bless the _Titanic_ for bringing them together. He hoped that the ship would sail for centuries, bringing lost souls together just as it had done for Belle and himself.

Her hands were just as eager as his lips were, and he found himself exhaling a sound of surprise against her mouth when her delicate fingers managed to rip his shirt open, sending pearl buttons scattering around the room in her wake. The fact that this shirt cost his father a fortune caused a slightly hysterical laugh to bubble out of Adam's throat, and he found himself kissing Belle with a more greedy, passionate fever than before, shedding his shirt entirely before going to work on her dress, sliding the skirt up her thigh to her hip, his fingers caressing her skin as he did so. A shaky sigh escaped Belle's lips against his at his caress, and the sound only made him want her more.

He wanted to be consumed by her warmth and her light; he wanted to hear her breathing and whispering against his ear, her gorgeous voice telling him the sweetest stories imaginable. He wanted to map her body with his fingers, paying as much attention to detail as she had when she drew his portrait. He wanted to _worship_ her.

Loosening the strings and buttons at the back of her dress, Adam was all too eager to help Belle divest herself of it, letting it fall to the floor with his torn shirt, cravat and their jackets. The second he looked back down at her, he felt his heart stutter.

She wasn't like other girls, who wore corsets and shifts and girdles to keep everything in; she was free, in every sense of the word, choosing to only wear the bare minimum beneath even the more expensive dresses that she had been given on this trip. He supposed that, when you lived on the bare minimum every day, extra luxuries seemed a bit silly. In this scenario, he certainly wasn't going to complain. Letting his fingertips trace the warm skin over breasts, her ribs, her stomach, and her abdomen, Adam paused when he reached the hem of her undergarments, flitting his gaze up to meet hers. Shivering beneath his touch, her pupils dilated with desire, Belle nodded. What she said next made him stifle a groan in the back of his throat.

"Put your hands on me, Adam…"

He'd never wanted to do something so desperately in all his life. Drawing in a trembling breath, he pressed another kiss to her lips and let his fingers slide beneath the waistband, gently brushing them over her most intimate area. She shivered beneath his touch and exhaled a breathless moan into his kiss when he slid a finger between her folds, testing her arousal, teasing her, tenderly stroking her. It was one of the most glorious sounds he'd ever heard.

"Is this alright…?" he whispered, pulling back from her lips enough to look down at her, and she nodded, a soft string of French curses escaping her followed by a breathless, " _Yes._ "

His lips pulling up into a fond smirk, Adam carefully slipped her undergarments down her legs at her consent so that he could have better access, and Belle squeaked with surprise when his lips were suddenly trailing down between her breasts, over her stomach, and lower, _lower_ , his blue eyes staring up at her intently until-

" _Oh!_ "

Dropping her head back into the pillows again, Belle exhaled a gasp as Adam's fingers gripped her thighs while he repeated the previous motions of his finger with his _tongue_. She never knew anything could feel so exquisitely good _._ Curling her own fingers into the soft duvet of his bed, she moaned when his lips closed around a more sensitive area, stars bursting before her eyes. Where on earth did he learn to do _that?_

" _Mon Dieu_ …" she whispered, trying desperately and without avail to take a steady breath, and one hand ended up slipping down to curl her fingers into his hair, biting her lip as he took her higher, and higher, _and higher_ until she came apart for the first time that night, her entire body shuddering.

When she was finally able to open her eyes, she caught sight of him crawling back up to be at eye level with her, his tongue swiping over his lips. His grin was infectious.

"You're beautiful, you know…" he whispered, resting a hand on her cheek, brushing wayward curls away from her face with the other. "Blushing and completely untamed…" Planting a firm kiss upon her lips, he grinned even more as he murmured, "You're a _goddess_ …"

Laughing at the comment, she pulled him down closer to her, stealing a purposeful kiss from his lips of her own before whispering against them, "Not like in _Venus and Adonis_ , I hope…"

"You do love your romantic tragedies, don't you?" he teased her fondly, kissing her again before assuring her, "No. Nothing like _Venus and Adonis_. For one thing, I doubt I'll be able to resist your feminine charms for much longer…"

Giddy laughter bubbling out of her, Belle shook her head, smirking and cradling his face in her hands, leaning close enough that she could brush her lips against his, whispering against them, "Who says you have to resist at all?"

Her words made him pause, pulling back to peer down at her, tenderly brushing his thumb over her flushed cheek. He had no qualms against bringing her pleasure, but what she was suggesting was quite a bit more intimate. He didn't want to push her before she was ready for that.

"Belle… _chérie_ , we don't have to-"

"I _want_ to," she interjected, grinning playfully up at him, gently bumping her nose against his. "Our friends are going to a lot of trouble to ensure that we aren't interrupted tonight… Don't we owe it to them to make the most of it?"

"You don't owe anything to anyone," he disagreed, wanting to be sure she took a step like this for the right reasons. But she was looking up at him with so much affection, and _desire_ , that he doubted he would be able to deny her anything that she asked for.

"I want this," she promised, sliding a hand down to his trousers, and Adam swallowed the lump building in his throat. "I want _you_."

And _cher Dieu_ , he wanted her, too. With every fibre of his being, he wanted her.

Meeting her lips with an eager kiss, he wound one arm around her to hold her body closer to his, and he was certain Belle had to be able to feel his heart pounding in his chest as her delicate hands pushed at his trousers, urging him to rid them of the barrier keeping them apart. With her enthusiasm so apparent, he complied, shifting enough to kick his trousers off before pressing another kiss to her lips, and another, and another, as she pulled him closer to her, shifting her knees so that her hips cradled his. And somehow, it all just felt… _right_.

It was wrong, of course. Dreadfully, sinfully wrong. But it didn't _feel_ wrong. Not with Belle. Not with her lips at his ear, whispering for him to "take her to the stars", and her hands coaxing him to do just that in such a way that he simply couldn't refuse her any longer.

When he sank into her and heard her whimper, he felt as if his heart had stopped. Only when she breathlessly moaned his name did he relax enough to breathe, one hand gripping the solid oak headboard of the bedframe while the other tangled with hers on the pillow close to her head. And, God, she felt _divine_. Each delicate rock of her hips, every slide of her warm skin against his, every brush of her lips in a tender kiss, every gentle scratch of her fingernails down his back. She was like a fire, consuming him, and he was more than happy to burn for her.

She cried out his name like a song. He whispered hers like a prayer.

* * *

"What are you doing?"

The amusement in the young lord's voice was impossible to conceal. He was leaning in the doorframe of his room's adjoined washroom, gazing at Belle with palpable affection and warmth. Belle, who was currently sprawled in his bed, her body covered with the downy soft duvet and coverlet, her hair wild and her face flushed. They'd quite literally only just finished making love _two minutes ago_ , and already she'd managed to locate a sheet of paper and a pencil – likely courtesy of the _RMS Titanic_ – in his night table. She was scribbling and smudging furiously, and evidently she saw something she liked when she looked up, because she whispered, "Don't move."

"I did get up for a reason, _mon amour_ ," he reminded her, continuing to grin, but she simply continued working on whatever had captured her attention so fully, her gaze entirely professional, flitting up to look at him every few moments before resuming her work. He'd crawled out of bed after pressing a kiss to her hair to fetch a cloth from the wash basin to rid her skin of the remaining traces of sweat. He'd also promised to fetch her something to drink. But now she was insisting that he stay in the doorway and not move an inch, and he daren't defy her. She had a look in her eye that whispered there would be consequences. He would likely thoroughly enjoy her consequences, but still – now he was curious.

What had to be ten minutes later, she finally changed back from the oh-so-serious _petit_ _artiste_ to his entirely sated vision of grace, and she grinned and she beckoned for him to return to her.

"Alright. Let's see what you've done," he hummed, crawling back under the blankets with her and kissing her forehead, taking her proffered drawing. It was just as impeccable as the one she had done the other day, _easily_ , but… he liked this one significantly better, for one single, shining reason.

"You look happy," she whispered, tenderly brushing her fingertip over the sketched version of his expression, and he felt himself mirroring it. The grin, the twinkle in his eye that was impossible to miss. His happiness was visibly present, in the drawing and in reality. He felt that nothing could spoil it ever again, so long as he had Belle at his side.

"I _am_ happy," he whispered, shifting to press a pointed kiss to her lips, grinning when they broke apart. Taking another glance at the drawing, he chuckled and flashed her a teasing expression.

"You could fetch a pretty penny for this, you know. I hear _dessins nu_ are all the rage in America."

Scoffing, Belle shook her head, tucking herself into his arms again and pressing a kiss to his chest. "If it's just the same to you, I think I'll keep this one. I rather like it."

"Suit yourself," he hummed, setting the drawing on the night table, pausing when, in doing so, his eyes fell on the safe. An idea, equal parts dreadful and ingenious, sprang to mind.

"Perhaps we don't have to live by the seat of our pants…" he murmured, and Belle furrowed her brow at his odd, out of place statement, shifting when he crawled out of bed again, tugging on his trousers. She watched, baffled, as he walked over to the safe and twisted the combination lock.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, pushing a hand through her hair to get it out of her face, and he pulled the door to the safe open, taking out the tiny velvet box and walking back over to sit on the edge of the bed, handing it to her. Frowning with confusion, she looked up at him.

"What-?"

"Just open it," he instructed, and she shifted to sit up, hugging the sheets to her chest before doing as he said. Once she opened the ring box, her eyes nearly bugged out of her head.

"That's… _That's_ …"

"The gaudiest trinket you've ever laid eyes upon?" he prompted and she laughed, taking it from the box to get a closer look.

"It is rather dramatic," she mused, grinning curiously and sliding it onto her finger, and Adam chuckled.

"Dramatic, and worth more than the Hope Diamond."

Belle gaped with horror at that, moving to take it off as if it may burn into her skin, but Adam quickly took her hand in his, preventing her from doing so.

"I was supposed to give it to Marie, but that seems a bit futile now," he mused, kissing each of her knuckles, ending on her ring finger, just above the aforementioned diamond. "It's called the Prince's Rose; they say it belonged to Marie Antoinette, before she died. It's been bouncing around the globe ever since. God only knows how my father managed to obtain it at an auction, of all places."

"Adam, I really don't think I should be-"

"We could take it," he cut her off, squeezing her hand in his. "We could smuggle it off of the ship tomorrow, and then sell it when we get far enough away from New York. I could do it anonymously. We'd live in comfort for the rest of our days on the sum I could fetch for it. You can draw and paint for pleasure, and never have to worry about a thing ever again."

"Adam, we _can't_ -"

This time, it wasn't his words that cut her off. It was a terrible, bone rattling shaking sensation that made the crystal chandelier across the room tremble and clink; the glass of water he had fetched for her fell to the ground and shattered; and several of Adam's paintings fell from the walls with a dreadful clatter.

Forgetting entirely about the ring on her finger, Belle went rigid and clutched at Adam's hand, her face turning white as a sheet.

"What was that?" she gasped, and Adam frowned, getting to his feet, comfortingly stroking Belle's knuckles with his thumb.

"Perhaps the ship has thrown a propeller," he suggested, because what else could it possibly be? Lifting a hand to run it tenderly through her hair, he offered her a reassuring smile before crossing the room to find a clean, untorn shirt, shrugging it on quickly.

"I'm going to go and find out what I can from one of the deck hands. I'm sure it's nothing to be concerned about, but…"

"But I aught to get dressed, in case your father shows up," Belle guessed and Adam nodded with a faint frown, shrugging on a tweed jacket from the wardrobe and slipping his shoes back on before moving back to her side, cupping her cheek and pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

"You have nothing to fear. I'll only be gone a moment. I promise."

A tad regretfully, he walked out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him and pausing before locking it, pocketing the key. Should his father come back while he was gone, he couldn't be allowed to find Belle on her own. He couldn't hurt her. Adam would die before he'd let that happen. He could beat him, slap him, drown him even, but God help the Earl if he touched her.

* * *

In a separate part of the ship, Lumiere and Plumette had been having their own _amusement méchant_. After carrying out his part of the plan and informing the Earl of Adam and "Marie's" plans for the evening, Lumiere had gone below deck to find Plumette and inform her that Belle would likely not be returning for the night. Of course, one thing led to another, and they may or may not have ended up in the back of a Model T in the ship's storage unit. They couldn't very well be intimate in Plumette's bunk; her bunkmate and said bunkmate's children were there!

Of course, a pair of security guards found them down there just as they had been stepping out of the car, reasonably rumpled, and all it took was one glance at the steamed up windows for them to figure out what had just occurred in a passenger's _expensive_ private property. A chase ensued, and the pair eventually lost their pursuers in the boiler room, taking a back staircase up to the main deck, howling with laughter the entire time.

"Oh, you are so _bad_ , Lumiere!" Plumette had trilled, giggling as they burst out into the cold evening air, and he had laughed theatrically, pursuing her in a chase of their own across the deck.

"I may be bad, but I am oh-so-good, _mon amour. Très, très bien!_ "

Catching her around the waist, he'd twirled her around to kiss her soundly on the mouth. Things likely would have taken another turn for the worst regarding public decency, had a loud trilling of bells and shouting not rudely interrupted their embrace.

Lumiere had just been about to question what on _earth_ could merit such a _ruckus…_ when he saw it.

 _The iceberg._

"What is-? Oh!" Plumette had shrieked when the looming mass of ice suddenly cast a shadow over the pair of them, and they had held their breath for a long moment, praying that it would just be a close call. That they would skirt right past it without any issue, and that everything would be -

 ** _SMASH!_**

\- …fine.

Seconds later, enormous chunks of ice were raining down around them and Lumiere gasped, using his grip on Plumette's waist to tug her out of the way with a shout of, " _Ma chere!_ Look out!"

The two of them watched with horror as the ice rained down and smashed onto the deck, sliding around, and that awful, metallic groaning continued. It was the longest stretch of time that either of them had ever experienced.

Slowly, as the pair stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the horror of the situation began to sink in.

 _The Titanic had struck a massive iceberg._

And, from the sudden rush of sailors and White Star Line employees racing around on the deck, that was _very,_ _very bad_.


	4. Unable to Stay, Unwilling to Leave

**Chapter 4: "Unable to Stay, Unwilling to Leave"**

Stepping out of his suite, Adam glanced around, unsurprised to find several other people doing the exact same thing. Evidently they had all felt that dreadful tremor and felt the need to check out the cause, as well.

"Has anyone spoken to a deckhand yet?" he asked the gentleman closest to him, a war colonel that he recognized from dinner, and the colonel shook his head.

"Not yet, my boy. I'm sure it's nothing terribly serious. Although, it _is_ strange that we've stopped so suddenly-"

"Lifebelts! Put on your lifebelts, please! Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention!" a young man began calling over the fussing aristocracy, and Adam turned his head toward the source of the sound, making his way closer.

"It's nothing to worry about, truly, just a precaution. Please, put on your lifebelts and return to your rooms until further notice-"

"Excuse me." Cutting off the deckhand's less than helpful shouting, Adam frowned, finally close enough to have a proper word with him. "What, exactly, has happened? My… fiancée and I, we felt a terrible shake."

"Oh, it's nothing to worry over, my lord," the deckhand assured him, handing him one of the many lifebelts in his arms. "Captain says we've thrown a propeller. I'm sure it'll be fixed in no time at all. If you could just return to your suite, it'd be much appreciated. Don't want to start a panic, after all."

"No, of course. But why would a thrown propeller cause a panic?"

The deckhand paused at that question, choosing to tactfully avoid it by stepping over to hand a pair of lifebelts to the colonel and his wife. The evasion made Adam frown.

He'd been on ships that had thrown propellers before. It really was nothing to worry about. But a thrown propeller had never felt like _that_. It caused a momentary shudder at most. Not an awful, prolonged quake. There was the off chance that, because _Titanic_ was so large, it could have more of an impact, but Adam doubted it tremendously.

Something had happened and they were being lied to about it. But _why?_

Tucking the lifebelt under his arm, he started making his way in the only direction he could think of that might be useful – the Captain's quarters. Surely he wouldn't have the audacity to lie to a lord's face.

* * *

Pacing back and forth across the Persian rug resting by the foot of the bed, Belle did her best not to fret. Adam had said he would only be gone a moment. It had been twenty, at least.

She'd dressed as quickly as she could, but now she was left with nothing to do. Nothing to do but _wait_. Waiting, you see, had never been one of her strengths. Especially in a situation like this.

Something was wrong – her instincts were _screaming_ at her that this was all much, much worse than a thrown propeller. She didn't know _how_ she knew it – she'd never been on an ocean liner in her life before three days ago. She had no idea what a thrown propeller even felt like, so why was her heart so certain that this was worse?

She'd been clutching at the collar of her pea coat while she walked, her heart hammering away in her chest, when she heard the main door open out in the drawing room. That had to be Adam. Hurrying over to the bedroom door, she made to open it, only to find that it was locked.

 _Locked._ Why on earth would it be locked?

"Adam? Marie? _Lumiere?_ "

Belle's breath hitched and she quickly took a step back from the door, the anxiety curling in her stomach only worsening. _That_ was why.

The Earl had returned. Adam had been worried that this might happen, so he must have locked her inside. Part of Belle felt grateful, but a larger part of her just felt like a caged animal with a snapping dog waiting outside to pounce on her. Plumette's words from before were still ringing in her ears –

" _He said he would_ _ **kill you**_ _._ "

She had no doubt in her mind that the Earl was capable of doing just that, which would explain why Adam had taken extra precautions to keep her safe. But, _oh_ , she wished that he had returned before his father. Maybe then she wouldn't feel so completely and utterly terrified.

Keeping as quiet as a mouse, she jumped back a few more steps when the Earl knocked insistently on the door, hissing, "What are you two _doing_ in there? Open the damn door! There are deckhands swarming all over the place, handing out lifebelts."

Belle continued to remain silent, but she had to stifle a frightened cry with her hand when the Earl began to jiggle the doorknob and rattle the door on its hinges upon getting no reply, his anger clearly spiking.

"Lumiere has _told_ me what you had planned for tonight, so you haven't any reason to pretend that you aren't in there! You'd best be dressed, because I'm coming in!"

Couldn't he tell that the door was locked? Unless he planned to break it down, he _couldn't_ come in. Belle took slight of comfort in that fact but, unfortunately, it didn't last for very long.

"You've got spare keys, don't you? I can't find the one for the room. They must have it locked from the inside."

"Yes, of course, my lord. But are you sure you want to barge in? You know how young couples can be-"

 _The Earl wasn't alone._

" _Je m'en fous_ ; they have their entire lives for nonsense like this. Something is going on, and I don't intend to be separated from my son if it's as bad as it felt."

"That's admirable, sir, but I truly believe you have nothing to-"

" _Ouvrez la putain de porte!_ "

"Yes, sir!"

Belle gasped when she heard a key turning in the lock, and she didn't have enough time to find a place to hide. She'd been about to duck into the washroom when the Earl flung the door open, and he went still with shock for a moment before rage took over his countenance. Belle paled beneath his gaze.

"What are _you_ doing in _here?_ " he hissed, his eyes flitting madly around the room, likely in search of Adam. Belle felt her stomach churn at the thought of what the Earl might do to him for this if he had reacted as he did just to their attending a party together.

She couldn't think of anything to say. Normally she was quick at the draw, but this was a very abnormal situation. She'd already been panicked over what could have caused such a tremor, and now a whole new problem had presented itself. She was entirely at a loss.

"This isn't Miss Dockery?" the man at the Earl's side asked, and Belle recognized his uniform from the first night aboard the ship, when she and Adam had been caught in a precarious position after she stopped him from jumping. The gentleman was with the ship's security team.

"No, she is _not_ Mademoiselle Dockery!" the Earl shouted, taking angry steps forward, and Belle quickly scrambled back until she came in contact with the wall and could go no further. "She is a little _whore_ who has been _stalking_ my son since we stepped foot on this ship!"

"What?" Belle gasped, horrified at the description, quickly shaking her head at the guard. "No! No, that's not true! I haven't been _stalking_ him-"

"She is a _liar_ ," the Earl spat, turning to face the guard. "She pulled my son into a storage room earlier today and harassed him! We showed her kindness the night before, inviting her to dinner after Adam saved her from falling overboard, and she hasn't left him alone ever since! Despite his _frequent requests_ for her to do so."

" _That's not true!_ " Belle objected in a fiercer tone, her heart pounding in her chest.

"How did you get in here, Miss?" the guard asked, addressing her as the Earl glared, and Belle sprang to get her story out.

"Adam brought me. We were here together, I swear it! I haven't been _stalking_ him; we're _friends!_ "

"Friends," the Earl spat venomously and Belle did her best to ignore him, pleading with the guard with her eyes. He had to believe her. He _had_ to-

"Where is his lordship now, Miss? So he can vouch for you? If he truly let you in, why isn't he with you now? And why was the door locked?"

Belle frowned at the question, having assumed such an answer would be obvious.

"He went out to-"

" _Voleur!_ "

The Earl's shout cut her off sharply and both Belle and the guard turned to him, reasonably startled. A gasp tore out of Belle's throat when he suddenly lunged forward and grabbed her arm in a vice grip, tugging her forward and thrusting her hand out for the guard to see.

" _Petit voleur sale!_ That is my daughter-in-law's ring!"

The Prince's Rose. She had forgotten entirely about having it on her finger in the commotion, and now she felt terribly, terribly ill. This was a hole she was going to struggle tremendously to dig herself out of. Oh, _where was Adam?_

The guard frowned as he looked at Belle's ring finger, examining the diamond shining there before looking back up at her face.

"How do you explain this, Miss?"

"There is nothing to explain! _Elle est un voleur!_ " the Earl shouted.

"I'm not a thief!" Belle shouted in return, trying to tug her arm free of the Earl's grip so that she could take the ring off and prove it. "Adam _gave_ it to me. I don't even want it! Please, just take it back! Take it back and let me go!"

If anything, the Earl's grip only tightened, resulting in a pained cry falling from Belle's lips. She was going to have deep purple bruises within the hour.

"You're not a thief?" he hissed and Belle cringed, squirming feebly when he tugged her forward and unbuttoned her pea coat, all but ripping it from her body. All the while, the guard did nothing. He just stood there and watched. " _You're not a thief?_ Then explain _**this**_ _, vous putain!_ "

Thrusting the coat at the guard, the Earl scowled furiously and Belle felt her stomach drop as the embroidery inside the coat was read aloud.

" _Property of Miss Marie Monique Dockery._ "

"It's not what it looks like," Belle pleaded, shaking her head, but she knew it was futile. Without Adam or Marie here to vouch for her, she did look like a thief. A rotten little third class thief who no one would ever believe or have sympathy for. Not up here. "She gave it to me. I swear, she _gave_ it to me-"

"You _swear_ ," the Earl sneered, shoving her harshly back against the wall, and tears of pain sprang to Belle's eyes when the force of it made her hit her head against the wooden paneling. "What value does the vow of a whore hold? You are a _thief_ and a _liar_."

"I'm not," Belle choked out, looking to the guard for help. "Please, you have to believe me. Ask Adam! Ask Marie! They'll tell you!"

"I'm sorry, Miss," the guard responded, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his jacket, and Belle choked on a sob when he turned her around and cuffed her hands behind her back. "You're going to have to come with me."

"Oh, no. No, no, _please. Please!_ I didn't take anything! _I didn't take anything!_ Don't do this, please, just wait for Adam!"

"I'll be taking _this_ back," the Earl snapped, tugging the diamond from Belle's finger with unnecessary force, and Belle dug her heels into the floor as the guard tugged her away. She could see the Earl grinning wickedly and fury boiled in her blood as tears slipped down her cheeks.

"You won't get away with this!" she screamed at him, fighting against the guard's grip as he pulled her toward the drawing room door. "You won't! He won't let you! You can't enslave your own son! He's stronger than you, and better, and he _won't let you win!_ "

"I'm terribly sorry about this, your lordship," the guard apologized before closing the door to the suite behind them and the Earl shook his head, redepositing the ring into its velvet box, speaking once he was certain that he was alone.

" _Stupide, stupide fille. J'ai déjà gagné._ "

* * *

Adam had made it nearly to the Captain's quarters when a familiar voice shouting his name made him pause. Turning around, he caught sight of Lumiere rushing toward him from the upper deck, looking pale and shell-shocked.

"Monsieur Adam!"

"You look like you've seen a ghost, old friend," Adam stated, frowning as Lumiere reached him and grabbed onto his jacket sleeve. What could have him so shaken?

" _Non, non – an iceberg!_ "

Grinning curiously, Adam shook his head.

"It's the North Atlantic Ocean in the middle of April. I suspect there are icebergs all over the place. It's not all that shocking to see one off in the distance-"

" _Non!_ " Lumiere exclaimed, shaking Adam slightly, willing him to understand. "It was not 'off in the distance'! It was right in front of us!"

Frowning at the clarification, Adam felt his heart clench. The shaking. The horrible, violent shaking. Suddenly, his mind snapped back to the newspaper that his father had been reading that morning – and the article about the _Niagara_ striking an iceberg. That would certainly explain why the staff was trying to keep people from panicking; they couldn't have passengers overreacting before help arrived to repair the ship. Certainly the exact same procedure occurred on the _Niagara_.

"So it wasn't a thrown propeller, after all," Adam murmured, meeting Lumiere's gaze. "We hit, didn't we? We hit the iceberg."

" _Oui,_ _mon amie_ ," Lumiere confirmed, still looking rather pale, and Adam opted to wrap an arm around his shoulders, guiding him back toward the suite before he fainted or something of the like.

"I'm sure it will be fine. They'll just need to repair the damage before we can get moving again. They have flood doors built in below deck for precisely this purpose."

Lumiere nodded, resigning himself to believe that until proven otherwise, and they were about halfway to their suite when another door opened and Madame Potts and Chip stepped out, both clad in lifebelts.

"Oh, boys! Have you heard anything?"

Adam opened his mouth to tell them the truth, but paused when he caught sight of Chip's wide-eyed, earnest expression. He was putting on a brave face, but it was one that Adam recognized; the boy was scared.

"We've… thrown a propeller," he lied, feeling a tad guilty, but the deckhand was right; the last thing anyone needed was to start a panic. Panicking led to a mob mentality, and mobs led to riots. If that were to happen, people really would get hurt.

Lumiere shot Adam a perplexed look at his lie, but Madame Potts and Chip both looked relieved.

"That's what everyone has been saying. Oh, thank goodness," Madame Potts breathed and Adam offered her a small smile, looking up when Marie poked her head out the door.

"I thought I heard your voice," she greeted Adam with a small smile, but it slipped after she took a look around. "Where's Belle?"

" _Oui_ – where _is_ Mademoiselle Belle?" Lumiere asked.

"She's waiting back in the suite. I locked the door so that my father wouldn't be able to get in; she must be terribly worried. We'd better head back, quickly, before he beats us there," he insisted, turning to Lumiere, and the valet nodded in agreement.

Madame Potts, however, looked rather pale.

"Oh, no. Oh, _dear_ ," she breathed, and Adam frowned, pausing in his retreat to look back at her.

"What?" he asked and she shook her head, running her fingers through Chip's hair.

"Your father, he stopped by about ten minutes ago. He wanted to check in and see if we'd heard what the ruckus was. I told him we didn't know, and… and he left. I expect he was heading back to your suite."

"He _what?_ " Adam hissed with horror, glancing at Marie with panic as he asked, "Did he see you? Does he know we weren't together?"

"I don't think so," she supplied, but clearly her own concern was growing. If his father went back to the suite, that meant that at the very least he had to have assumed they weren't in there when no one answered the bedroom door. At the very worst, he could have found a way in and discovered Belle.

Grabbing Marie's hand, Adam broke into a run in the direction of their suite, Lumiere hurrying along after them.

* * *

The Earl was sitting casually with a glass of brandy when the three of them burst into the room, his unfinished newspaper spread across his lap, and he glanced up at the sound of the door banging against the wall.

"Ah. There you are. I was wondering where you all disappeared to."

He was much too calm. He was _never_ this calm. Glancing toward his room, Adam cursed quietly when he saw the door wide open, panic setting in. How had he gotten in? What had he _done?_

"Lumiere, could you be so kind as to-"

"Where is she?"

Glancing up when Adam cut off his request, the Earl frowned, swirling the brandy around in his glass.

"What are you on about, boy?"

"You bastard…" Adam bit out, stalking over to his room and stepping inside, turning over every inch of it – the wardrobe, underneath the bed, the washroom. Belle was nowhere to be found. Rage was settling in along with his panic and he stormed back out into the drawing room, grabbing the lapels of his father's jacket and tugging him forward as he shouted, " _Where is she?!_ "

"Mind your tone, boy!" the Earl snapped, shoving him back and getting to his feet, setting his glass aside. "I haven't a damn clue what you're talking about! The only 'she' who I was informed would be in there is Marie, and she's been with you all night! Unless I was _lied_ to?"

There was no possible way that he didn't know precisely what was going on. If he was here, and that door was open, he had to have found Belle. _He had to have._ He'd done something with her, something terrible no doubt, and Adam was beside himself. What could he do? How could he save her if he didn't even know what had happened?

"You're despicable," Adam spat in a low, deadly tone, jabbing a finger against his father's chest. "You are a despicable, fiendish bastard! You know exactly what I'm talking about, and I refuse to play your pathetic games! _Where is Belle?_ "

"You have the audacity to say that name in front of your fiancée?" the Earl asked, glaring and shoving Adam's hand away, and Adam resisted the powerful urge to punch him in the jaw. If he couldn't speak, he couldn't tell him where Belle was.

" _His fiancée_ would like you to answer the question," Marie stated, stepping forward to stand at Adam's side, and the Earl pursed his lips. Clearly he hadn't been expecting _that._

"Very well," he ground out, glaring at the pair of them. "I thought I'd spare you the pain of knowing the truth, but if you're going to insist, why should I bother?"

"What are you talking about?" Adam scoffed, and the Earl took a step closer to them.

"She was trying to rob us, boy. That little tramp was going to rob us blind."

"Don't be ridiculous," Adam snapped, clenching his jaw. "She would never – and even if she would, she _couldn't_. When the ship shook, I went to see what had happened and locked the bedroom door behind me. She couldn't have gotten out, and _you_ couldn't have gotten in!"

"Always so naïve," the Earl jeered, shaking his head. "You think a girl like that can't pick a lock? A girl who lives on the streets and steals her way onto a ship? When I walked in, I found her pinching all she could carry; your paintings, the crystal brandy glasses, and the _ring_. Her kind always takes advantage of chaos."

"You're _lying_ ," Adam remarked quickly, his stomach churning. "That makes no sense! We're on a ship; why would she try to rob us with nowhere to go?"

"It would be easy enough for her to hide on a ship this big, my boy, don't think otherwise," the Earl stated, and Adam frowned. He didn't want to believe it. He couldn't believe it. Belle would never do such a thing. She'd tried to give him the ring **back** , _pour l'amour de Christ_. She wouldn't have tried stealing from him.

But a sick, self-deprecating part of his mind whispered that maybe, just maybe, she would. That it had all been a lie. That she saw an opening and she took it; a vulnerable, lonely rich boy, desperate for affection. Easy pickings. Why would she ever have cared for him? No one else did. Not even his own fiancée. Even she preferred another.

Marie could tell that his hope was dwindling. The fire in his eyes was burning out. It broke her heart.

"Adam, _no._ Don't you listen to a word he says. _Don't you listen to it!_ You _know_ her. She wouldn't do such a thing! _I_ know she wouldn't. She'd never hurt you! He's _lying!_ "

The Earl scowled at Marie's defense of Belle, and he was about to rip her a new one when there was s cordial knock at the door. Lumiere, ever the attentive valet even in times of crisis, crossed the room to answer it.

" _Oui, monsieur?_ "

"I'm very sorry to trouble you all so late at night."

Frowning, Adam tore his attention away from his father and looked over at the door. He recognized that voice. It was Mr. Andrews. He looked nearly as bad as Lumiere had when he had first come running at Adam from the top deck.

"Yes? What is it?" he asked, not giving his father a chance to do so, and Mr. Andrews stepped inside. He had an unmistakable aura of shame about him.

"I really must insist that you put your lifebelts on. Please," he stated, taking a deep breath, and the Earl guffawed.

"Hardly likely! We've only thrown a propeller blade. I'm not going to crease my jacket with one of those filthy contraptions for a _thrown_ _propeller blade_."

"Sir, I insist that you put it on."

"And I refuse-!"

" _We haven't thrown a propeller blade_ , Mr. Tolbert," Mr. Andrews snapped, dropping any and all formality, "Roughly forty minutes ago, _Titanic_ struck an iceberg."

" _Oh, my God_ ," Marie gasped, grabbing Adam's hand as her other flew up to her mouth, and he squeezed it in a feeble attempt at reassuring her. This sort of thing happened all the time. It was nothing to panic over –

"I've just spoken with the crew. The gash is more severe than we ever planned for, and the compartments have filled much further than was ever anticipated when the ship was designed. Please, put your lifebelts on. _Now_."

"What are you saying?" Adam prompted, his frown deepening far more than it had during his conversation with his father. "The compartments are there to keep the ship afloat. Surely this is just a delay-"

"I assure you, sir, it's not. The ship was not designed to hold so much water in the hull. In roughly an hour and a half, _Titanic_ will sink."

* * *

"Why won't you _listen?_ "

Belle was growing exhausted, both physically and mentally. She'd been dragged, kicking and screaming, below deck, and was currently handcuffed to a pipe in what she assumed was the security office. The guard never even looked up, no matter how much she pleaded with him.

"If you'll just speak to Adam, he'll sort this all out! _Please!_ This is all a horrible misunderstanding-"

Her pleas were cut off when another guard briskly walked into the room, capturing more of the first guard's attention in that instance than Belle had in a half hour of clanking and begging.

"Have you heard?"

"Heard what?" the first guard asked, and the newcomer frowned.

"Captain says we've struck ice. That's what all the shaking was. Six compartments flooded before they got the doors secured."

" _Six?_ " the first guard asked, his back to Belle, gaping at his companion. "You must be mistaken. We can only stay afloat if four compartments flood."

The newcomer nodded, his eyes filled with a sense of urgency, and the first guard took a moment before he seemed to finally catch on.

"Good god! Are we sinking? Is that what you're saying? We're bloody _sinking?!_ "

"Aye," the newcomer croaked, fear palpable in his voice. "Captain says Mr. Andrews told him we've got about an hour before this whole bloody rig is at the bottom of the sea. He wants us all up top, supervising the loading of the lifeboats."

Jumping to his feet, the first guard shoved the newcomer toward the door.

"What are you standing there for? Go! I'm not drowning down here because you can't dig the led out of your arse!"

"Hey!" Belle gasped as they rushed out the door, panic settling in. Loudly clanging her handcuffs against the pipe she was chained to, she raised her voice. " _Wait! You can't just leave me down here!_ "

But their footsteps were fading, and soon there was no sound at all. They'd left her handcuffed to a pipe in a low area of a sinking ship, and the first guard still had the key to her cuffs in his jacket pocket.

They had left her there to die.

* * *

The suite was deadly silent. No one had taken a breath or spoken a word since Mr. Andrews said the word "sink". Marie was the one to finally break the silence, exhaling a terrible, frightened shriek.

"Now, Miss Dockery, there's no need for that. I promise you, everything will be fine. If you'll just put on your lifebelts, the guards will begin loading people onto the lifeboats any minute. But I must urge you to hurry." Casting a glance at Adam, he added, "You know why."

He did. His brain switching to autopilot, he quickly turned and helped Marie into the lifebelt that he had been clutching since he first left their suite and was misinformed about what had occurred by that shouting deckhand. Marie was quivering, clearly terrified at the prospect of the ship going under, and he felt a strong urge to protect her. He may not love her, but he cared for her a great deal. He'd make sure she got off safely if it was the last thing that he did.

" _Bien Dieu!_ " the Earl finally shouted, targeting all of his rage at Mr. Andrews. "You designed this thing! You swore that it was unsinkable! _Unsinkable!_ "

"She's made of iron, sir!" Mr. Andrews snapped, his patience wearing thin with the Earl, "I assure you, she will sink! Now put your damn lifebelt on!"

With that, he turned and left the room to do all he could to help elsewhere, and the Earl was left bristling.

" _Quelle excuse pathétique pour un homme! Quand je quitterai ce navire, je finirai sa carrière! Je l'aurai envoyé en prison! Je vais avoir sa tête!_ "

Adam, upon finishing with tightening the straps on Marie's lifebelt, whirled and smacked his father in the face, not fearing the repercussions. He was finished listening to his drivel.

" _That man_ is not responsible for this. _That man_ petitioned to have more lifeboats put on this iron deathtrap, should something like this occur! _That man_ will undoubtedly go down with this ship and _drown_ within it, and he is more of a man than you'll ever be!"

The Earl was dumbfounded. Grabbing Marie's hand, Adam pulled her from the suite and Lumiere hurried along after them. The Earl, however, just continued to stand there. Shocked. When he finally came to his senses he didn't seek out a lifebelt – instead, he made his way to the safe and started pocketing all of the cash that they had on hand, grabbing the velvet ring box as well. There was no way in hell that his fortune was going down with this ship.

* * *

"You… You struck your father," Marie finally gasped out as they joined the growing crowd on the ship's deck, making their way toward the lifeboats. "You struck him, and you told him off. Adam, that… that was brilliant!"

"Well, it hardly matters now," he murmured, gently urging her through the crowd, Lumiere at their side as guards shouted, " _Women and children! Only women and children at this time! Women and children, this way, please!_ "

"It does matter," Marie disagreed, turning to face him as they neared the front of the nearest queue. "It means that his hold on you is breaking, darling. It means that you don't have to fear him anymore. If you can stand up to him, you can do _anything_. And you're going to do _wonderful_ things. That much I know for sure."

Staring down at her, Adam felt entirely perplexed. She was _so_ _kind_. How did someone born in their world become so _unflinchingly_ kind?

"As will you," he agreed, and stepped forward with her after the people in front of them boarded the lifeboat – people he recognized immediately as Madame Potts and Chip.

"Mister Adam!" Chip called out over the guard's shouting and his little face was filled with worry. Although evidently it wasn't for himself, for he asked, "Where's Belle? Why isn't she here? She should be getting off with us! The ship's gonna sink!"

"It'll be alright, Chip," he tried to assure him, avoiding his question about Belle's whereabouts entirely. "Just listen to your mother. Here, darling," he remarked as he took Marie's hand, helping her step into the lifeboat, moving to let go once she was safely seated beside Madame Potts, but Marie tightened her hold.

"You have to find Belle," she stressed, squeezing his hand as if it would enforce her words. "Adam, you know your father was lying. In your heart, _you know it_. She _loves_ you – and, no matter what you've convinced yourself of, you deserve that love. It's _real_. I can't get off of this ship unless I know that you'll be happy – that you'll _both_ be happy."

Frowning, stunned at how insightful she was, even now, Adam took a steadying breath before stating, "That chap of yours is terribly lucky to have you."

At that precise moment, the guard began urging him to step away so that more people could board the lifeboat, and Adam had no choice but to let go of Marie's hand. As he took a step back, he heard her call, "She's not a chap, and she and I will never forgive you if you don't find Belle!"

"Wait… 'she'-?"

" _Out of my way! Move! Vas t'en de mon chemin!_ "

Adam's attention was ripped away when he heard the unmistakable sound of his father's voice, and he turned with a frown to catch sight of the Earl shoving his way through the crowd, a lifebelt secured over his overcoat. When he reached Adam, he thrust another lifebelt into his arms.

"Put this on and get on the boat."

"We can't," Adam stated, frowning deeply at how inconsiderate the Earl was being – although, it was certainly nothing new. "Women and children are being put on first. We have to wait until they're all safely off the ship."

"Surely you only mean the _upper class_ women and children," the Earl haughtily remarked and Adam scowled.

"Do you _hear yourself_ when you speak?" he snapped and the Earl scoffed, his eyes widening when Adam continued, "That water is _freezing_ and there aren't enough boats. Over half of the people on this ship are going to _die._ You could show some compassion for once in your life and allow them to save the women and children from falling victim to that fate!"

"So let them save the better half," the Earl bit out, "because not all lower class women _deserve_ to be saved. Some of them, _je pense_ , deserve to die."

His words filled Adam's veins with ice, for the implication behind them was clear. He was talking about Belle, and something in Adam just… _snapped_.

"You were lying about her stealing," he stated, and the Earl shrugged.

He didn't say anything. He just _shrugged_.

"Where is she?!" Adam shouted, guilt gnawing at his insides for ever doubting that Belle was innocent, no matter how briefly he had allowed himself to do so. He found himself hating his father more than ever for instilling such a terrible sense of self-loathing within him – one so strong and deeply rooted that he honestly had convinced himself that Belle, the most genuinely good person he had ever met, would honestly take advantage of him. " _Tell me!_ "

"She's where she belongs," the Earl remarked, his eyes narrowed, "and where she should have been this entire trip."

Shoving past his father, Adam darted away, his stomach churning. He felt despicable. He'd let his own self-loathing cloud his judgement, and now Belle was undoubtedly suffering because of it. Suffering down below, where water had to be beginning to rise. But the ship was massive, and he didn't even know where to start looking for her. For the second time since boarding the _Titanic_ he felt tears burning in his eyes. This was his fault. This was all his fault.

Angrily wiping them away, he continued to run, searching for someone, anyone, who could help him. It was then that he caught sight of Mr. Ismay. He looked skittish and guilty, but not in the same way that Mr. Andrews had. Pushing past a group of people, he shouted the man's name.

" _Ismay!_ "

The ship-builder jolted at being called out, turning to look at the gentleman running up to him.

"My lord," he greeted him, anxiously rubbing his mustache. "Why haven't you put on your lifebelt? You aught to; we're… we're _sinking_ , as I'm sure you know-"

"Yes, I know," Adam quipped, running on very little patience. "I need to find someone. A girl – I think my father had the guards take her somewhere below deck on false accusations of theft."

"Oh," Ismay mumbled, wiping at his brow with a handkerchief. It was odd, that he was sweating so much in such cold weather. "That's too bad."

"No, it's not 'too bad'," Adam interjected, frowning at the man's disinterest. "I need to _find_ her! Where would the guards have taken her?"

"Surely you're not going down there? You'll _drown!_ You need to get to a lifeboat!"

"No, I _don't!_ They're not even letting men board! Will you help me or not?"

"I… No, my lord. No, I'm staying right here. I'm not going down there. I won't."

Adam watched with disgust as Mr. Ismay turned away, his gaze falling, once again, on the lifeboats. He continued to sweat and rub his mustache and look around as if he were being watched. It was then that Adam figured it out.

The man was planning to sneak onto a lifeboat and leave all of the people, whom his ship had damned, aboard to drown. He wasn't even going to help passengers get off safely. He was waiting for his chance to abandon them all.

"You're pathetic," Adam spat, glaring. "You're a lowly, spineless coward."

Mr. Ismay said nothing.

Shoving past him, Adam continued his desperate search for help.

* * *

In all the chaos, no one had noticed Lumiere slip away. The valet had disappeared, taking sets of stairs three at a time as he hurried down to the lower decks. Water was already coating the floor, and attendants were shoving doors open and carelessly tossing lifebelts inside, not even bothering to tell people why. He found himself astounded by the stark difference between how these people were treated, and how the people above were treated.

He needed to find Plumette. The second that Adam had said " _over half of the people on this ship are going to die_ " he had bolted. Plumette had retreated down below shortly after the iceberg hit, insisting that she needed to make sure all of her friends were alright. He had agreed and asked to accompany her, but she had refused him.

" _Non! Find Belle! You must find Belle and tell her what has happened! Belle et Monsieur Adam! Go, go! Hurry!_ "

She'd been gone before he could protest. But now, Belle was nowhere to be found and her friend deserved to know that. More importantly, Lumiere needed to make sure that Plumette got on one of those boats before they all were gone.

Rounding the corner, he splashed through the gradually rising water on the floor, making his way as quickly as he could toward Plumette's bunk. When he reached it, he found her helping her bunkmate's daughter into a lifebelt while the mother helped her son.

" _Ma chérie!_ We must go! Quickly! They have already begun filling the boats, and there are not enough for everyone. There's not a moment to lose!"

"Oh, Lumiere!" Plumette whispered, her voice quivering as she tightened the straps on the little girl's lifebelt. "How can this be happening _? Le Titanic est insubmersible!_ "

"It does not matter now," he urged, hurrying the four of them out of the bunk and toward the nearest staircase up, where a crowd was growing. "What matters is that we do not sink _with it_. Quickly, now, so that we can all-"

" _Open the bloody gate!_ " a Scottish brogue echoed through the corridor, coming from the top of the stairs.

" _Once the first class passengers have been loaded safely onto boats, we will be starting with you lot. Please, sir, back away from the gate-_ "

" _That's utter shite! There are women and children down here! Open the gate so they can have a chance!_ "

" _Sir, I won't repeat myself. First class is being evacuated. Your patience is required._ "

" _Patience? You've got us caged down here like rats! Open the damn gate!_ "

"Mommy? What's happening?" the little boy asked, and the woman bunking with Plumette pursed her lips before forcing a comforting smile, hugging her children close to her skirt.

"I think they're busy loading the first class people onto the boats, my sweet. We've just got to wait our turn. You've nothing to worry over. They'll get to us very soon."

The boy nodded, but Lumiere felt a sick sense of dread coiling in his stomach. The water at their feet was beginning to rise, and the staff had closed the gates at the top of the stairwells.

They were trapped.

* * *

Adam felt as if he may go out of his mind. Mr. Ismay hadn't helped him. None of the guards would help him. He was running out of options, and running out of time.

Shoving past a throng of men, Adam cast a glance over at the band when he noticed they had come up onto the deck and begun playing, gentle music floating from their violins and basses, as if it were a dinner party going on and nothing was the matter. This was madness. Utter madness.

Bursting through the nearest door in an attempt to get away from the sickening sounds, Adam pushed his way through the confused crowd to the top of the staircase, pausing at the clock and glancing around – and then he saw him. Mr. Andrews was standing at the foot of the stairs, looking terribly troubled.

" _Mr. Andrews!_ "

Unlike Ismay, Andrews didn't jump. He simply looked up, frowning weakly when he realized whose voice it was.

"Adam. For God's sake, my boy, _do_ put your lifebelt on. The water won't stay below for very long."

"I know. _I know_. That's why I need you to help me. _Please_ ," he begged, for he quite literally had nowhere else to turn to, "Where would the guards take a person accused of a crime whilst on board?"

"Why on earth do you need to know-?"

"It's Belle," he cut him off, not willing to waste any more time than he already had. "My father, he's done something dreadful; I fear she may be trapped down below with no way out. He means for her to drown. Mr. Andrews, _please_ , I can't let that happen-"

"Dear God," Andrews cut him off, frowning, glancing toward the elevator. "They… The guards, they'd keep a criminal down below, handcuffed in their office. It's protocol. They keep them there until they can be handed off to the police when we dock."

"Where _is_ the office?" Adam asked, and Mr. Andrews looked terribly stricken.

"It's _below_ , my boy; quite far below. Just above the hull, where the engine room is located. By now, it's bound to be halfway flooded, at least. You may find her, but there's no guarantee you'll make it back up alive."

"I'm not going to leave her there to die, Mr. Andrews. _I won't_. Tell me how to get there."

The engineer frowned weakly, clearly not enjoying the prospect of sending another young soul off to his inevitable death – but he couldn't, in good conscience, let that girl drown, either. Not when this was all his fault. His and Ismay's. Ismay, who had urged the Captain to speed up, so they might arrive in New York early and "give the journalists something new to print."

Well, they would certainly have their headlines now.

Taking a deep breath, Mr. Andrews rattled off the directions and Adam sped over to the elevator. The attendant was turning people away, insisting that it was closed, and he frowned when Adam pushed his way to the front of the queue.

"Sir, the elevator isn't taking passengers up or down. It's not safe. Please head out to the lifeboats."

" _There is a girl trapped down there_ ," Adam urged, but the attendant wouldn't budge.

"The elevator is closed. Please, head out to the lifeboats-"

"Damn you!" Adam shouted, grabbing the attendant by his shirt and tugging the gate open, shoving him inside and stepping in before harshly closing the gate behind them. "I'm through with being polite! Take me down, _now!_ "

Gaping, the young man quickly pulled the lever to take them down, not wanting to risk provoking the gentleman's rage any further. For the first moment or two, it seemed things weren't so bad.

And then the water started pouring in.

"Oh, God!" the attendant shouted, panic clear in his voice. After a few seconds of fumbling, he grabbed for the lever. "I'm going back up!"

" _No!_ "

Adam attempted to wrestle him away from it, the water nearly up to his waist, but when the struggle proved futile he simply pulled the gate aside and leapt out.

Belle hadn't exaggerated that first night. The water was _freezing_.

"I'm going back up! I'm going back up!" the attendant continued to cry, grabbing the lever and pulling it back, and Adam watched as the elevator began to ascend, leaving him behind.

Paying no mind to it, he began trudging through the icy, high water, a shout tearing from his throat as he did his best to follow Mr. Andrews directions.

" _Belle!_ "

There was no response. Terror licked at his insides while the icy water worked at freezing them solid, and a shudder ran through Adam as he forced his way through the rising tide, turning a corner and trying desperately to remember which way he aught to be going.

" _ **Belle!**_ "

The further down the hall he ventured, the higher the water seemed to get. It was over his stomach at this point and he cringed. The water seeped through the fabric of his shirt easier than it had his trousers, and his entire body felt like it was being wrapped in a thick sheet of ice.

" _Belle! Belle,_ _ **please!**_ _Oh, mon Dieu –_ _ **Belle!**_ "

She was dead. Either she had drowned already, or she'd frozen to death. Those were the dreadful thoughts running through his head when he heard it – a small, uncertain cry from further down the hall. It was muffled, likely by a door, but he was certain he'd heard it.

" _Adam?_ "

"Belle!"

Moving toward the sound as fast as he could, he quickly shouted, "Keep calling, _mon amour!_ Help me find you!"

" _Adam! Adam, please! In here! I'm in here!_ _ **Adam!**_ "

Shoving his way through the water, he managed to figure out which door she was behind and tried the handle, but the door wouldn't open properly. Using all of his weight, he shoved himself against it until it gave way, stumbling into the room and nearly falling face first in the water.

She was there. She was handcuffed to a pipe and huddled on top of a desk in an attempt to stay out of the icy water, but she was there.

"Oh, thank God…" he choked out, rushing forward and taking her face in his icy hands, kissing her with absolutely all he had. He'd never forgive himself for ever doubting her. For almost letting her die.

Belle kissed him back with as much vigor as she could muster with her hands unavailable, and she choked out a sob when they broke apart.

"You came for me," she whispered and his heart clenched. Brushing away her tears, he nodded, kissing her forehead before responding.

"Of course I came," he rasped, pressing kiss after kiss to her face. "I'll never leave you again."

A mixture of a laugh and a sob escaped her, and Belle frowned faintly, resting her forehead against his.

"Your hands, they're _comme de la glace, mon chère. Mon Dieu_ , you must be _freezing_ ," she whispered.

"I'll be alright," he murmured, only pulling away from her to look frantically for a key to set her free. "But we have to get out of here. There's no time. _Pour l'amour de Dieu_ , where's the key?!"

Belle made a weak noise that drew his attention promptly back to her from where he'd been rattling about in the cupboards and desk drawers.

"The guard," she whimpered, "He took it when he left. It was in his jacket."

" _Merde!_ " Adam exclaimed, slamming his fist down against the icy water with frustration, and Belle blinked back tears.

"Go," she whispered, her voice wavering. "Go – you have to go. There's no key, and I can't let you-"

" _No,_ " he snapped with intensity, lifting his gaze to meet hers. "I'm not leaving you here. I'll find a way."

"Adam, _please-!_ " she tried to object, but he was already out the door. She wanted to cry. She couldn't bear the thought of him drowning down here with her – not when she'd tried so hard to save him from the icy depths to begin with. She couldn't bear it. It was all too cruel.

But, as he had promised, he came back. With an _axe_ , of all possible things. She was positive from the way he was holding it that he'd never held one before in his entire life.

"You're mental," she breathed, the tears sliding down her cheeks, and he shook his head as he waded through the steadily rising water over to her.

"I'm not mental," he countered, attempting to wipe away her tears, but it was a futile gesture when he was soaked to the bone. " _I love you._ "

Belle felt her breath hitch at his admission and she leaned forward to press a tearful kiss to his cold lips, aching to embrace him. It had only been three days, but she'd never cared about anyone this much before. She had an overwhelming desire to keep him safe, and to make him happy, and to be by his side through thick and thin.

Things were feeling terribly thick right about now.

Steeling herself for the inevitable cold awaiting her, Belle slid down off of the desk so that Adam could attempt freeing her from the handcuffs, exhaling a little cry when the icy water soaked through her dress, hitting her legs like knives. Sucking in a sharp breath, she shifted her hands so that the chain of the cuffs was flat on the pipe, but she abruptly stopped him when he raised the axe.

"Wait!" she gasped, swallowing roughly. "Try… Try a few practice swings on the desk. We won't get very far if you dismember me by accident."

He couldn't argue with that logic. It was incredibly sound, considering he'd never swung an axe before. His station had never made it necessary. They had people who chopped their firewood for them.

"I… alright," he agreed, turning to face the desk and raising his arms over his head, and Belle cringed at the sight.

"Move your left hand up further, and hold it tighter," she instructed, equally terrified that the thing may go flying backward and hit _him_ in the process of attempting to save her. Adam furrowed his brow.

"How do you know how to-?"

"Never mind that. Just do it!"

Following her instructions, he repositioned his hands and tightened his grip before bringing the axe down hard, splintering the tabletop.

"Good. That was good," Belle assured him, taking a deep breath. "Now see if you can hit that same spot again."

He followed her instructions, and missed the mark by a good six inches.

" _Sanglante enfer_ …" she whispered, cringing, before shaking her head and steeling her arms. "Alright, that's enough practice. Just give it your best shot."

If he cut off her arm, at least she'd die before the ship went down.

Adam took a wavering breath as he lifted the axe, feeling rather woozy. He didn't want to do this. _God,_ he didn't want to be wielding a _lethal weapon_ so close to her, but what choice did he have? Either he risked it, or he let her die for sure.

The latter simply wasn't an option.

Bringing the axe down as hard as he could, he squeezed his eyes shut just before it made impact, preparing himself for a scream. Instead, he heard the sound of metal striking metal, followed by a shocked exclamation of delight from Belle. Not of agony – _delight_.

He'd done it. He gaped when he opened his eyes and saw the broken handcuff links, and he quickly dropped the axe into the water when Belle flung herself at him, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck. She pressed eager kisses all over his face and he clutched her to him, relishing in it.

But there was no time to relish. They had to move.

Clinging to each other's hands, they waded out of the guard's office and out into the hall. Belle blanched when she saw the lights flickering and just how high the water had gotten. Adam's expression was similar.

"That's the way out," he groaned, and Belle grasped his hand tightly in her own, starting to pull him in the other direction.

"We'll just have to find another way."

Her unwavering optimism, even in a moment like this, astounded him.

* * *

The Earl was furious. Completely and utterly _furious_. The stability of his future depended upon Adam marrying that damn Dockery girl, and he had the nerve to run off in search of some third class whore? That wasn't how he raised him. How dare he be so selfish?

Shoving his way past weeping women and trembling children, he ventured to the other side of the ship. He'd heard that they were letting men get off there, and there was no way in hell that he – _and Adam_ – would not be on that boat. The third class tramps could drown with the rest of the rats. He was _worth_ something. He wasn't going to pay for the mistakes that Andrews and Ismay had made.

Pushing past several more people until he reached the guard that he had been told about, the Earl tapped the gentleman on the shoulder.

"I was told I could arrange safe passage of here, for me and my son," he murmured, pulling a wad of cash out of his jacket pocket where he had stashed all they had hidden in the safe. "For the right price."

The guard glanced down, taking the money quickly and stuffing it into his own jacket.

"Be here when we load the next boat," he instructed and the Earl nodded, turning and venturing back the way he had come. He had one more thing that he needed to take care of before they could get off. Find Adam, and get rid of that girl, once and for all.

Brushing his fingers over the pistol concealed within his jacket, the Earl walked at a brisker pace.

* * *

The water was continuing to rise, to the point where Adam and Belle had to both swim and pull themselves along by the piping on the ceiling to make it down the hall. It was a messy, horrifically cold endeavor, but they eventually made it to a staircase.

Adam had never felt so relieved in all his life. He knew he could last a bit longer down here, but he wasn't sure if the same could be said for poor Belle. Her dress was soaked through and her lips were beginning to turn blue. She wasn't wearing nearly enough layers for this kind of cold – his father's doing, no doubt.

But, to his absolute horror, they found the gate at the top of the staircase to be locked.

"What in God's name?!" he shouted, rattling the gate on its hinges, and Belle trembled beside him as her wet dress clung to her skin. When she spoke, her words chilled him far more than the water ever could.

"They've locked us out. All of us down in third class. They don't want us getting up there and making a mess of things."

Adam couldn't believe anyone would be so heartless. There were women and children down here! A scarcity of lifeboats or not, there was still plenty of room within the ones that they _did_ have for the people down below. He'd never despised the class system quite so much as he did in that very moment.

Slamming his body against the gate, Adam swore up and down in every language he knew, panic beginning to settle in when the rising water started to lap at their ankles. No. No, it wasn't going to end this way. He'd _found_ her – he had to _save_ her.

Continuing to smash himself up against the steel gate, Adam's heartbeat accelerated when he heard footsteps racing toward them, shaking the gate violently when an employee raced past and started up the next staircase.

"No, no, no! Sir! We need help down here! _Sir!_ " he shouted at the top of his lungs, and the gentleman skidded to a stop, turning around and making his way back down toward them. When he came into view, Adam recognized him; he was one of the footmen from the dining room. One of the ones who had opened the door for them the night he had invited Belle to dinner. How terribly, terribly ironic.

"You two aren't third class," he stated, his brow furrowed with clear confusion. "What are you doing down there?"

"For the love of God, man – _does it matter?_ Unlock the gate! Quickly!"

Despite Adam's command and the clear direness of the situation, the footman paused.

"We've been given strict instructions not to unlock the gates. Not until first class has been dealt with."

Adam's eyes flashed, his usually well managed temper flaring. The next thing Belle knew, he had reached between the gap in the gate's bars and grabbed a fistful of the footman's shirt, tugging him toward them and speaking venomously.

"I don't give a _damn_ what _instructions_ you've been given. You are going to unlock this gate, _now!_ There are people down here _, innocent_ people, who you will singlehandedly have condemned to death if you don't _give them a chance_ to save themselves! They have just as much right to get off this ship as anyone else! There are _women and children_ down here!"

The footman gaped at him, quickly fumbling to grab the keys off of the wall and do as Adam said. Adam, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm his bubbling rage, held tightly to Belle's hand. All he could think about were all of those people who he had seen at the party – the child Belle had danced with stuck out with extreme vividness. Just how many children were down here? How many _people?_ How many of them was the class system willing to sacrifice with no remorse?

Once the gate had been tugged open, Adam quickly pulled Belle out of the stairwell and pointed down the hall as he addressed the footman.

"Go and unlock as many of those gates as you can _, orders be damned_. It's bad enough that making this ship look appealing to first class passengers is why there aren't enough lifeboats for everyone – I won't stand by and let innocent people be shucked aside for the aristocracy's _comfort_. Go _. Now!_ "

"Yes, my lord!" the footman quaked, running down the hall to do as he was told, and Adam gave Belle's hand a tug so they could make a run for it. Belle, however, hung back.

"We have to go, _mon amour_ -" he tried to insist, but her lips silenced his with a firm, unexpected kiss. When she drew back, Belle's eyes glistened with tears.

"You're so good," she whispered, resting her forehead against his. "So completely and unfailingly _good_."

Before they met, she'd had a relatively negative perception of all upper class people. They had only ever sneered at her, if they bothered to glance her way at all. She'd assumed, from those she had met while she traveled, that they were all pompous and heartless – like the Earl. Yet, despite growing up under the thumb of such a cruel, greedy, uncaring man, Adam stayed true to his heart. True to what he felt was right. While the other people up top wouldn't give those of them down below a second thought, he wanted to help them. He wanted to give them a chance.

He could have left her down there to drown in the guard's office to drown, believed whatever lies the Earl undoubtedly spouted about her sudden absence, but he didn't. Despite it all, _he came back_.

"I love you _,_ " she sniffled softly, winding her arms around his neck. " _Dieu aidez nous, je t'aime_."

Belle's words, and her plea for heaven's aid, made Adam squeeze his eyes shut and tug her close, holding her tightly. He was no fool. Even if he got her into a lifeboat, he couldn't get on it with her. First class or not, there was a very high chance that he would die. That these were their final moments together. If God truly was listening, then he only had one plea:

 _Laissez-la vivre. Prenez-moi, mais laissez-la vivre._

The water rising past the staircase that they had vacated and rushing toward their feet pulled Adam from his tearful reverie and he drew in a deep breath, drying Belle's cheeks with his thumbs before taking her hand and quickly pulling her up the next flight of stairs. At the top, they shoved open a heavy steel door and emerged out onto the top deck, the cold night air cutting through them both like a blade. It had been bearable before, when he was dry, but soaked to the bone with icy water? That was a different scenario entirely.

But, as he looked back and forth along the deck, Adam felt his heart clench.

The boats were gone. Every last one of them, _gone_.

He'd been about to admit defeat, to curse the night sky and the clearly non-existent deity residing there, when the last voice he'd hoped to hear called across the deck to him.

"Adam! Oh, _Dieu merci!_ I thought for sure you had drowned!"

Clinging tightly to Belle's hand, Adam tucked her body subtly behind his so that she wouldn't be touchable by his father's rage. It was well concealed, at the moment, but he knew it was there. It was always there.

"Father," Adam muttered, his voice as icy as the water slowly engulfing the ship. "I thought for sure that you would have bribed your way onto a boat by now."

"Without you? My dear boy, do you think so little of me?"

" _Moins que vous ne le pensez_ ," Adam stated coldly, but the Earl's expression didn't falter.

"There are still some boats left on the other side of the ship, and one of them is letting gentlemen board. We need to move, quickly, if we want to be on it."

"I'm not a coward, Father," Adam bit out, scowling at the notion. "I won't take the place of a woman or a child. My life isn't worth half as much as theirs."

His eyes flicked over to Belle at that, and his heart ached. What he wouldn't give to _share_ her life; to have had the chance to get off of the ship with her, like they had discussed. To run away and lead a simpler life, a kinder life. A life worth leading.

The universe had other plans, he supposed. Ignoring his father, Adam turned and began to guide Belle to the other side of the ship. If there were boats left, he was getting her on one of them. Then, he would help ensure that other women and children got on safely, as well. He would make himself useful. He wouldn't be an Ismay. He wouldn't be his father.

"Adam, for god's sake," the Earl spat, walking briskly after him. "Don't just ignore me. There are _very few_ boats left. You _understand that_ , don't you? You understand what that _means_?"

"Yes, Father, I do," Adam responded curtly, keeping Belle at a safe distance from the man in question as they rounded the corner and made their way to the other side of the stern, making their way to where the guards were still loading people onto boats. He noticed a few lower class women, children, and men up top now; the footman must have done as he said.

"It means that I'm going to get the woman that I love to safety, and then I'll go down with this ship like every other man with even a shred of a conscience. Of course, I know you wouldn't understand _that_."

" _What?_ " Belle gasped before the Earl even had a chance to respond, turning to look at Adam, stopping him from ushering her toward one of the lifeboats. "No! No, I won't leave you here to die!"

"For once, I actually _agree_ with her," the Earl stated, tossing Belle a disgruntled glance before looking back at Adam. "Listen to her! _Pourquoi au nom de Dieu_ would you stand by and let yourself die with your entire life ahead of you? Your future? A prosperous future!"

Ignoring the Earl yet again, Adam resumed guiding a now struggling Belle toward the nearest lifeboat.

"You have to go," he urged her when the reached the queue, cupping her cheek with the hand that wasn't holding hers. "This is your only chance. Please, _mon amour_ ; you need to go."

"No," Belle disagreed again, frowning up at him. She was shivering all over from the cold cutting through her wet dress and Adam tossed his father a withering look.

"Give me your jacket and your lifebelt."

" _Excusez-moi-?_ "

"She's freezing!" Adam snapped, stepping forward and glaring at his father. "For once in your pathetic life, do the right thing! _Take off your jacket and your lifebelt_."

"I do nothing for free, my boy," the Earl bit out, glaring knowingly at him, not budging. Perhaps this girl could actually prove useful. "If I do as you ask, then you must do as _I_ ask. You're getting off of this ship."

Adam clenched his jaw. His only priority was taking care of Belle, and if lying would help him do so, then he would do so – to both of them. Because he had a sinking feeling that Belle wouldn't get off the ship unless she thought that he was doing so, as well.

"Fine," he ground out and the Earl smirked with satisfaction, turning around to unstrap his lifebelt and unbutton his overcoat, hiding his pistol away in his dinner jacket before turning back around to hand both layers off to Adam.

Adam wasted no time turning back to Belle, helping her into the extra layers and fastening her lifebelt himself before urging her forward in the queue.

"Adam, _no_ ," she protested, but he offered her a small, comforting smile.

"You heard my father. There's another boat waiting for us. But right now, you need to get on this one. I need you to be safe, _ma chérie_ ," he lied, tucking her wet hair behind her ear, "If you're safe, we can meet again as soon as help comes. Then we can run away, just like we planned. Everything will be alright."

"Adam-" Belle attempted to object again, but now he was kissing her forehead and handing her off to a guard so that she could be helped into the lifeboat. She didn't like any of this. It felt sickeningly wrong. Adam would never agree to leave when other people could take his spot in a lifeboat. He was lying through his teeth and she knew it. But he wouldn't let her stay.

" _No_ ," she pleaded feebly one last time, reaching out for his hand with both of hers as the guard signaled for the boat to be lowered down and he grasped her fingers, giving them a squeeze. She felt her heart break when he slipped out of her reach.

As he watched the boat being lowered, the Earl pursed his lips. If he had it his way, that girl would be at the bottom of the ocean. But it was a compromise he was willing to make if it ensured his fortune.

"You're an impressive liar, my boy. Perhaps we're not so different, after all," the Earl stated, and Adam frowned weakly as he watched the boat being lowered, S.O.S. fireworks going off behind them.

"I'm nothing like you," Adam ground out, clinging to the side of the sinking ship, "and I won't get on that boat. I don't care how much money you wasted on securing my spot – you can't make me do it. You can't make me do anything anymore."

"That's where you're wrong," the Earl stated, all too calmly, and Adam felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up when he heard the cocking of a pistol and felt the barrel press subtly against his side. "Start walking. _Now_."

In the lifeboat, Belle noticed the visible change on Adam's face as the Earl spoke to him. She couldn't hear what was being said anymore over the whistling and banging of the fireworks, but she still _saw_ it – the gun.

"No," she whispered, horror seeping through her veins. It was all too clear what would happen now. The Earl would force Adam into that lifeboat, and then he'd force him into a loveless marriage – if not with Marie, then with someone else with a heavy purse. Then, Adam surely _would_ kill himself.

She wasn't going to let that happen. Not so long as she was still breathing.

" _No!_ "

It wasn't her scream that drew everyone's attention, but what followed it; Belle leapt to her feet in the lifeboat and she _jumped_.

Adam, knuckles white on the ship's railing from the moment his father pulled out the pistol, felt a cry of terror tumble past his lips when he saw her jump. Even the Earl faltered at the sight. _Why in hell would she do that?_

" _ **Belle!**_ "

Below, one of the guards on the lower deck had grabbed onto her and tugged her back onto the ship and Adam didn't think – he didn't think about his father's gun, or the waiting lifeboat, or the fact that the ship was sinking. He just _ran_.

He ran past passengers and guards and White Star Line employees, past the still playing band, and shoved open the gate at the top of the stairs, running down to the lower deck and meeting Belle halfway. People were appraising her like she was a mad woman for jumping _back onto_ a sinking ship – and she was. She really, really was.

"Why in god's name did you do that? You could have been killed!" Adam gasped as he caught Belle up in his arms, burying his nose in her hair, and she clung to his shirt and shook her head.

"I saw the gun and I knew what he was trying to do, and I couldn't let him force you back into that life, Adam, I just couldn't-!"

Adam's blood ran cold.

 _The gun_.

He heard the first shot before he saw it and it was poorly aimed enough that it splintered the wooden wall beside them, dragging a startled scream from Belle's lips. It was all too clear that the Earl had hoped it would hit her.

"Go. _Go!_ " Adam urged Belle, pushing her forward as the sound of the Earl thundering down the stairs resonated startlingly nearby and several people shrieked when the Earl fired another shot, this one zipping by far too close for comfort.

Adam and Belle burst through the door that lead to the top floor of the dining deck, and they both paled when they realized that it was completely flooded up to the middle of the central staircase, chairs and books and pillows floating down below while the lights flickered. But the sound of the door flying open again sent them running down the side staircase and then the central one, jumping into the rising water just as the Earl fired another shot. This one ripped through the water with a terrible splash, causing Adam to curse and Belle to shriek with surprise.

"For god's sake, Father! Stop this!" Adam pleaded, but he knew that it was futile. It was as futile now as it had been when he'd been beaten as a child. The Earl's eyes were wild, and he kept the gun pointed at Belle as she and Adam stumbled back into the water.

"Stop? _Stop?_ " the Earl asked, and his laughter was that of a madman, his tone turning mockingly to that of a frightened child. " _Stop, Papa! Stop! Please!_ "

He sneered, not missing the look that crossed Adam's face. "You always were weak. Your mother made you weak, and now _she_ has made you even weaker. Passing up a certain opportunity to get off of this ship for a _girl_? For a _third class_ girl with no money, and no future, just because she was _nice_ to you? _Pathétique!_ "

" _I'm_ pathetic?" Adam shouted, gripping Belle's hand. She didn't fail to notice that he was trembling. " _Moi?_ I've never had to _beat_ a child to earn respect! _I've_ never forced anyone into doing anything that they didn't want to do! _Love_ doesn't make me pathetic, Father! The only pathetic one in this room is _you!_ And I thank God each day that Mother is in a better place, far from the likes of you, _you tremendous bastard!_ "

Grabbing Belle, Adam tugged her out of the way just before the next bullet that the Earl fired would have shot right through her, both of them falling backward into the icy water that filled the dining room below. Being submerged in it with terror of being shot at was even worse than it had been when they escaped the guard's office. Following Belle as quickly as he could to the surface when her lifebelt pulled her back up, Adam urged her to swim toward the dining room doors, narrowly missing several more shots from the Earl's pistol.

"You're a fool!" the Earl screamed with rage, gripping the wooden railing of the staircase as he watched them disappear. "You've doomed yourself, your _family_ , and for what? _For love?_ "

Chucking the empty pistol at the door, he watched as the glass shattered, screaming, " _I hope you two enjoy your time together!_ " before he vanished to go and catch his ride off of the ship.

And perhaps Adam had doomed himself. But dying with Belle would be a far better fate than living with his father.


	5. A Life So Changed

**Chapter 5: "A Life So Changed"**

"Is he gone?"

Belle looked pale and reasonably shaken at having just been used for target practice and Adam drew in a slow breath as they lingered in the flooded dining room. A mere second later, the Earl's empty pistol went flying through the glass in the door, causing them both to jump back several feet with surprise. But the Earl was, undoubtedly, gone.

"He won't waste his time pursuing us further," Adam confirmed after peering through the splintered glass. "He might miss his boat."

The sneer of disgust in his tone was obvious, but there was no time to dwell on his father any longer. There was no time for anything. The ship was going down, and it was going down _fast_ , and Belle had given up her only safe ticket off of the _Titanic_ because she couldn't leave him behind.

"Come on," he finally made himself urge her, even though he knew that, in his heart, trying to get her onto another boat would be pointless. She would certainly refuse, if there were even any boats left at all. He could only hope that their sacrifice meant that a few of the innocents down below were able to get off of the ship.

"Where are we going to go?" Belle asked, clutching his hand as they waded through the flooded dining room, past floating chairs and china. They certainly couldn't go back the way that they came. If his father saw them, he'd be liable to steal another gun and start the entire debacle all over again. Adam, for lack of a better answer, responded with a single word.

" _Up_."

* * *

On the top deck, the furious Earl made his way through the growing throng of panicked people. There were third class individuals up there now, all but rioting as they tried to get themselves onto the last few remaining boats. Scowling, he shoved them aside and approached the guard that he had paid off, making a move to get into the boat he was loading.

" _Get back_ , sir!" the guard barked, just as he had been at the pushy people from third class, and the Earl drew his brow downward, his scowl deepening when the guard pointed a gun warningly in his direction.

"We have an arrangement," he spat, only for his eyes to widen when the guard pulled out the money he had given him, throwing it back in his face.

"This ship is sinking, and there aren't enough boats for even the women and children to get off safely," the guard spat back, and the Earl scoffed at hearing that excuse for the second time in the last hour. "Your money will do you no more good here than it will do me. Now _get back!_ "

"Perhaps my _money_ is of no value to you," the Earl remarked as the guard continued to hold him, and the third class people, at gunpoint, "but what about _this?_ "

Patting at his jacket, he made to pull out the Prince's Rose, frowning and tugging his pockets inside-out when he realized he didn't have it.

And then he _remembered_.

Adam had demanded that he give his lifebelt and overcoat to that _girl_ , and the diamond was _in_ his overcoat. After all of the hysteria of having her framed for thievery and getting the diamond back, it was going to drown with his son and that pathetic little tramp.

Along with every last dime of his dwindling fortune.

Slowly, hysterical laughter began to bubble out of the Earl, his hysteria continuing to build as the guard ordered, once again, for him to 'get back'.

" _Non_ , I will _not_ get back!" he screamed through his laughter, unflinching at the gun pointed at him. No one would ever shoot _a French earl_. This was all for show, to keep the third class cattle lingering behind him from pushing through. Launching himself forward, the Earl made a dive for the nearest boat –

\- and fell, in an unmoving heap, when a gunshot rang through the air, mingling with the screams of panic resonating all over the ship. The screams nearby only intensified as the gunshots multiplied, and blood began to trickle downward from the Earl's bullet wound, staining the deck due to the tilting of the ship. The bullet had gone straight through his cold, unfeeling heart, killing him instantly.

* * *

The most distinct sound was sobbing. Heart-wrenching, ever-present, terrified sobbing. Sobbing and prayers, some in languages that Lumiere didn't even recognize.

The water seemed to be everywhere. Pouring down from the gate at the top of the staircase, rising in the hallway below, bursting through portholes that couldn't take the pressure.

There was word that someone had been unlocking gates, but that was an entire floor above them. They couldn't get up there, and nobody was coming down to help them. Going down would be suicide. The only chance anyone had would be to go _up_ , and that was a chance that none of them were being given.

Eventually, the panicked third class group had retreated away from the staircase, not long after the guards abandoned them there. Lumiere had cursed up and down at them, swearing that he was a valet for a first class family and that he had to get up top; he'd had slight hope that, if they would open the gate for him for just a moment, everyone else could overtake them and break through. They'd had no such luck. The guards hadn't even paid him a second glance, and now they were gone.

While most of the others had ventured down the hallway – which turned out to be a dead end – in search of another way out, their tiny group had retreated back to their room and shut the door, hoping to keep the water out for as long as possible. They'd then climbed up onto the top bunks, Lumiere and Plumette in one and the mother with her children in the other, and fallen quiet for a long time.

Finally, the little girl broke the silence.

"Mama? What's going to happen to us…?"

Beside him, Plumette began to shake and Lumiere pulled her close to his chest, letting her weep. None of them had the heart to tell the little girl the truth; she likely wasn't old enough to have understood it, anyway. She and her brother were both too young to have learned about death.

But Plumette knew. Plumette knew all about death, and she was terrified of how quickly it was approaching. She wasn't ready to go. She'd never been an avid church goer, but now she almost wished that she had been, so she would feel at least _a bit_ prepared for what was to come, whatever it may be.

Lumiere wasn't an avid church goer, either, but he wasn't afraid. He was sad that the end had come too soon, especially for the children, but he wasn't afraid.

While the mother clearly struggled to find her voice through her own tears, baffled at how to tell her young children that they were all going to die, Lumiere spoke up, gently carding his fingers through Plumette's hair while he held her close, his gaze flitting between her and the tiny family huddled on the bunk across from theirs.

"We're going somewhere wonderful, _ma petit chérie_ ," he answered the little girl, hoping to give them all a bit of comfort before the water overtook them. The door was closed, but the room was still steadily flooding beneath their beds.

"We're all going to go to sleep, and when we wake up we'll be someplace _truly_ wonderful. There will be all the bonbons you could ever eat, and there will be music and laughter, and no one will ever have to be lonely or sad ever again. It is called _le monde-après_."

Sniffling, Plumette lifted her gaze to his, asking softly, "…the 'afterworld'…?"

"Oui, _mon amour_ ," he confirmed, pressing his lips to her forehead. "The world of eternal youth and beauty, where we will be together, forever."

Sniffling again, Plumette lifted a hand to his cheek, her voice cracking when she asked, "Do you truly believe that, Lumiere…?"

"I do, _ma chérie_ ," he promised, holding her closer to him on the cot, "It is why I am not afraid."

Over on the other cot, the little girl piped up, "I'm not afraid, either," and her brother echoed, "Me neither. The afterworld sounds fun, Mama, like the party the other day!"

The children's mother sniffled but she nodded with a smile, hugging the two little ones close to her on their cot.

"It does sound lovely, doesn't it, my sweets…?"

In their own cot, Plumette managed a small smile, pressing her forehead to Lumiere's as her hand lingered on his cheek.

"It _does_ sound lovely," she agreed, feeling less frightened of what was to come with Lumiere's reassurances, and he lifted his own hand to take hers in his, tangling their fingers and giving her hand a squeeze.

"We will be there within the hour," he promised, pressing a kiss to her lips before whispering, "Just close your eyes, _mon amour_ … Close your eyes, and don't be afraid…"

And so they all did. When the porthole in their room finally burst from the pressure of the water outside, flooding the room in a matter of seconds, they were all fast asleep and they didn't feel a thing.

* * *

Up above, things were far less peaceful. The gunshots that had been fired only increased the panic of the passengers desperately trying to find a way to escape the ship and there were lifeboats being toppled over in the chaos, people crawling on top of them when they hit the water in an attempt to stay out of the freezing ocean that was quickly flooding the entire ship.

When Adam and Belle finally burst through a servant's exit that led onto the top deck, the door swung on its hinges due to the increasing force of gravity that everyone still on board was trying to fight against. The ship was going down at a terrifying speed, with the bow entirely submerged in water at this point and the stern rising steadily into the air. Adam blanched at the sight and the sound of so many people screaming in panic, and it was Belle who had to snap him out of it.

"We have to move!" she cried over the noise, grabbing his hand and tugging him away from the door and toward the ship's stern. Everyone seemed to be running in that direction, attempting to stay on the ship for as long as possible, which was increasingly growing difficult.

Clinging to Belle's hand, Adam stumbled along after her only to skitter to a momentary stop, his eyes widening when he caught sight of something that he never thought he would live to see – partially because he'd grown up convinced that the man in question would kill _him_ , for something or another, before his own demise.

His father, blood trickling in a long stream downward, was lying dead on the deck with people screaming and running for their lives around his corpse. Someone had shot him.

He wasn't sure how he aught to feel. Yes, the man had terrorized him for all of his life, but he'd never wished him dead. He simply didn't have the heart for it. He wasn't like his father, who made death threats on a daily basis; Adam had wanted to escape his father's clutches, but he'd never hoped to see the man killed.

Belle noticed what had stolen his attention so fully but she couldn't let him dwell on it. There simply wasn't any time. Pulling on his hand, she struggled to snap him out of it.

"Adam, _please!_ There's nothing that you can do for him now. You have to save _yourself_ , and to do that we have to _move!_ "

Her persistent pulling eventually tugged him free from his thoughts and he nodded, tightening his hold on her hand and bolting further up the deck, toward the stern. They had to push past what looked like hundreds of panicked people swarming all over the place and Adam felt himself growing increasingly sick. All of these people were going to die. Every last one of them. He was sure of it. He didn't even have hope for their own survival. Not really. The odds just didn't support it.

"Belle," he rasped, clinging to her hand as they ran, "Belle, I'm sorry. If you'd never gotten pulled into my mess of a life, you might have made it to one of the boats in time and _stayed in it_ , and you wouldn't be-"

She effectively shut him up with a brief but firm kiss before breaking into a run again, shoving their way past more people as the stern steadily continued to rise into the air.

"If we hadn't met, you would have jumped. You would have died, Adam, and that's simply not an acceptable option. Not then, and not _now_."

Grabbing onto the railing with her free hand when they finally reached it, she looked up into his eyes when he did the same, and for a shining moment, all of the chaos surrounding them melted away.

"I don't regret it. Not a single second of it. These past few days with you have been the most thrilling adventure that I've ever been on, and I wouldn't trade it for all the fortune or fame in the entire world. _I love you_ , Adam DeLeroy Tolbert d'Avignon," she remarked, grinning at finally getting his full name right, "and loving you has been the most invigorating experience of my entire life."

Clinging to the railing, Adam laughed faintly and let go of her hand in favour of wrapping his arm tightly around her, causing Belle's brow to furrow. Laughter wasn't exactly the reaction she'd been expecting.

"What's so f-?"

"I just realized," he cut her off, brushing his lips against her forehead, "This is _where_ we first met."

With a quick glance around, Belle realized that he was right. They were standing in the exact same spot on the stern where he had considered throwing himself overboard. It was terribly, terribly ironic.

But they didn't get the chance to dwell on the irony of the situation, or on the brief kiss that they shared after his realization. Their lips broke apart when a terrible metallic groaning overpowered the screams and splashes of people falling into the water, and the two of them looked up just in time to see one of the steam pillars breaking free from its ties and falling, with a tremendous splash, down into the water below. Squeezing his eyes shut, Adam buried his face in Belle's hair. All of those people who had been in the water when the pillar fell were undoubtedly dead.

But the stern was rising faster now, sending the people who were still trying to run from the water sliding backward and downward with terrible speed along the increasingly vertical deck. There were screams of terror as people pitched to their deaths, some colliding with metal doors and smashing through windows and others falling off the other way, hitting the now visible propellers as they plummeted down to the ocean below.

His breathing coming in horrified pants, Adam rooted his feet on the railing much like he had that first night, wedging Belle's body between the bars and his to keep her in place as they clung for dear life to the only thing keeping them from joining the dead down below. Kissing her cheek, he used all of his strength to strain against the gravity trying to pull them downward.

"Don't let go," he whispered in her ear over the screams, his entire body trembling, and any response that Belle might have had was silenced when the air around them filled with the sound of splintering wood and cracking steel, another pillar crashing heavily down into the water below before _Titanic_ broke in half, the stern sailing downward and back into the water with a terrible splash, all of the lights on board going dark. It took all that they had not to go flying backward with the force of the fall, their knuckles as white as the railing that they were clinging to. And then, as the bow began to sink into the depths below, the stern started rise again, faster this time, sending more people into the water below as the screams of those left onboard intensified.

" _Oh, God!_ " Adam gasped, panic settling in for what he was sure would be his final moments, but Belle had other plans. Even now, she was determined to keep him alive.

"It's going to sink! If we stay here, the ship will take us down with it! _Move, Adam, now!_ "

"There's nowhere to move to!" he screamed in return, but Belle was clamoring up over the railing that he'd been keeping her wedged against, Adam's eyes going wide at the sight. " _You're going to kill yourself!_ "

"And you're going to die if you stay there! I can only do so much, Adam – _you have to help me!_ "

She was already on the other side of the railing, clinging to it with one hand while she held her other out for him to take. It was painfully reminiscent of that first night, when he'd been the one on that side of the railing and she had pulled him back to safety.

Her gaze was earnest and desperate for him to do as she said, even in the panic surrounding them, and he cursed softly before grabbing her arm, letting her haul him over the edge with her, flattening himself against it once he was on the other side. To his absolute horror, Belle began unstrapping her lifebelt.

"Stop it! _Stop!_ Belle, _pour l'amour de Dieu,_ _ **stop that!**_ "

But she wasn't listening. Instead, she fired back, "Can you swim?!"

Paling, having not even thought of that in the chaos, he murmured, "Barely-"

"Exactly!"

Clinging to the railing with one arm, she forced him into the lifebelt, using her arm slung over the railing and her free arm to fasten the straps through the bars. Once he was safely strapped in, she gave her justification.

"I've been swimming for my entire life. So long as you don't let go of my hand, I can get to the surface and stay afloat. But you _can't let go!_ Alright? Whatever happens, _don't let go!_ "

Grabbing her free hand tightly in his own, Adam clung to the railing and nodded as the ship continued to ascend, shivering from the cold and from obvious anxiety.

"I won't let go," he swore to her and she nodded, offering him a small smile. Feebly, he returned it and squeezed her hand, and then everything stopped.

The stern was completely vertical and had stopped moving entirely. Everyone holding on for their lives seemed to hold their breath in the moments that they hovered there, suspended and unmoving.

"What's happening? Why has it stopped?" Adam asked, his voice wavering, and Belle shook her head, holding tightly to his hand.

"I don't know. Maybe it's-"

But then the sinking began - the death of the _Titanic_ , sending it down to its final resting place. As the stern began plummeting straight down into the icy water below, the screaming started up again in full force and Adam felt panic curl in his stomach. Lifebelt or not, they were going down at startling speed – the suction of it was liable to take them right down with it.

"Oh, God," he gasped for what felt like the hundredth time as the water came rushing toward them. He couldn't swim. He was going to die. They were all going to die. "Oh, God-!"

"Adam, stop it!" Belle snapped, squeezing his hand tightly in hers. "You're going to be _fine,_ alright? I promise! But I need you to take a deep breath and _hold onto my hand!_ Now, Adam – _now!_ "

Clinging to her for dear life, he sucked in a breath as deeply as he could mere seconds before the _Titanic_ sucked them all down beneath the water. Somehow, the water felt even colder now than it had in those moments aboard the ship when they'd had to wade through it. It was like a thousand knives piercing his skin at once and he nearly lost his breath at the alarming sensation, only managing to keep a level head when he felt Belle squeezing his hand. The suction was pulling them deeper, and deeper, and he couldn't _breathe_ , and he'd been about to panic when a dreadful thought occurred to him.

If _he_ couldn't breathe and _he_ was freezing, then the exact same thing was happening to Belle and he wasn't about to let her suffer or die. Not on his life.

Clinging tightly to her hand, Adam started kicking for the surface against the suction of the sinking ship, letting his lifebelt do some of the work as its buoyancy began pulling them upward. But then something caught a hold of Belle's leg, and her hand was pulled sharply from his. All of the air flying out of his lungs with horror, he groped aimlessly for her in the water, sucking the icy, salty liquid painfully into his lungs –

\- and then his lifebelt caused him to break through the surface and he coughed violently, shoving the water out of his chest, wheezing for air as he splashed about in the frigid water.

" _ **Belle?!**_ "

His desperate cry came out as a half-choked scream, but the sound merely mingled with the panicked cries of the other people still alive and thrashing about in the water. None of whom looked like Belle.

" _ **Belle?! Oh, god, no – Belle! Belle, please! Belle!**_ "

She was gone. He couldn't see her anywhere. He'd promised he wouldn't let go of her hand, but he _did_ , and now she was _gone_.

He'd been about to start unstrapping his lifebelt, to dive back down and try to find her below, when there was a gasp behind him and a pair of arms latched around his throat. He'd started to panic, nearly throwing off his attacker, when he recognized her small, cold hands.

"Belle!"

Pulling her around so she was in front of him, rather than behind, he tugged her cold, wet body into his arms and choked out a sob, tangling his shaking fingers in her sopping hair.

Coughing, Belle returned the embrace, shivering desperately from the cold as she clung to him.

"Somebody grabbed onto m-my ankle… They tried to p-pull… me down with them, but my sh-shoe fell off…"

Holding her tightly, Adam did his best to ignore how cold they both were, kissing her quivering lips and cupping her cheeks as they did their best to stay afloat. Glancing around wildly for the boats, certain they had to be returning for them all now that the ship had gone down, Adam drew in a trembling breath.

It was too dark to see if any of them were coming back. But they had to be. _Surely_. It was bad enough that they didn't take enough passengers to begin with, there was no possible way that they would be so heartless as to leave them all to drown.

Finally, although it was certainly no boat, Adam caught sight of the splintered, floating remains of one of the doors to the ship's ballroom. It would suffice to keep them out of the water until the boats arrived.

"Help will be here soon, _mon amour_ ," he whispered tenderly in Belle's ear as she shivered, pulling her in the direction of the door and gripping the edge, helping her to heave herself onto it. She looked so terribly cold. Help couldn't get there soon enough, in his opinion.

Once she was situated, he carefully pulled himself up out of the water so as not to tip the door over, exhaling a shaky breath once they were both safe. Latching onto Belle's hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed it, blowing on it gently in an effort to warm her up.

Smiling faintly, she huddled closer to him as they floated on the icy waves, resting her other hand over his.

"You did w-wonderfully, my d-darling…" she whispered, gently kissing his jaw. "I told you that you'd… be f-fine…"

"We're both going to be fine," Adam responded, wrapping one arm around her waist to hug her small, shivering body closer to his, pressing tender kisses to her face with his cold lips. "The hard part is over. Now all we have to do is wait."

She hummed in response, smiling faintly as she clung to his hand, his arm around her providing a bit of comfort.

"What will you do… when you get to New York…?" she asked quietly through her chattering teeth and he frowned at her persistent use of singular pronouns, lifting his hand to tenderly wipe her wet hair away from her face.

"I'm going to marry you," he stated firmly, letting his hand rest on her cheek. "The very second we touch dry land, I'm going to whisk you away and marry you. Then we can start anew… We can be together, and make a life for ourselves, and have children…"

"Oh… _children_ …" Belle breathed, a soft smile on her lips, lifting a hand to rest over the one he had at her cheek. "What will their names be…? Tell me about it, Adam… Tell me about… a-all of it…"

Keeping her close to him, Adam took her up on her request, certain that, so long as they kept talking, everything would be okay. It would keep them awake until help arrived, and then they would be in the clear.

"We'll have two children… A little girl named… _Rose_ , after all of the flowers in your story… and a little boy who we'll name after your father…"

Smiling softly, Belle closed her eyes, curling against Adam as he spoke.

"Maurice…" she breathed, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw. "Rose and Maurice…"

"Rose and Maurice," he repeated, kissing the top of her head. "We'll live in America, because God knows we'll never step foot on another ship after this… We'll save up and buy a little house with a white picket fence, and we'll plant a flower garden, and you'll make all of the art that your heart desires, and everyone who's anyone will want to acquire _un original Delacour_ …"

Nodding, Belle drew in a soft breath, her voice quiet when she spoke.

"It all sounds so w-wonderful…" she whispered, her breath warm against his cold skin. "Promise me that life will be wonderful, Adam… P-Promise me that you'll be… h-happy…"

Furrowing his brow, he smiled softly, tenderly squeezing his arms around her.

"Of course," he whispered in return. "Life will be wonderful, and I'll be the happiest man alive. I promise."

Relaxing beside him, Belle nodded, tangling their quivering fingers together.

"Hold onto that promise… and never let it go…"

* * *

Huddled up in blankets, Madame Potts, Chip, and Marie all watched with pained expressions as the screams and splashing of the survivors of the sinking began to diminish. People were dying out there, either of hypothermia or because they had drowned. It was all too terrible to bear.

"Mama?" Chip whispered, tears sparkling in his eyes. "Aren't we gonna go back and help them? Nobody else is – we've _gotta_ …"

Sniffling, Madame Potts nodded, lifting a hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks before turning to the guard who had directed their lifeboat out this far. He'd been dreadfully quiet ever since the ship went down.

"My Chip is right," she stated, gently holding onto his shoulders. "We have to go back and help. All of those people, they need us to-"

"No," the guard stated, his lips pursed. He said it was a dreadful sense of finality.

" _No?_ " Madame Potts repeated. "No? You can't honestly be suggesting we leave them all out there to die! Why, that's-"

"If we go back, they'll swamp us. They'll overturn the boat, and you _and your boy_ will drown with the rest of them. Is that what you want, _Madame?_ "

Madame Potts gaped at him, hugging Chip closer to her chest, shocked silent at his heartlessness. Marie, however, was having none of it. She'd had her fill of heartless men in the time that she had spent in the Earl's company – it was time for a change.

"We're going to help them," she snapped, her blue eyes cold. "Either you start rowing, like a _decent human being_ , or we'll throw you overboard and do it ourselves."

" _Hold your tongue_ , Miss-"

"I mean it!" she snapped, pulling out the butterfly pin holding her hair in place and holding its sharp tip shockingly close to the guard's throat, enough that several of the other passengers aboard the lifeboat gasped with horror. "Start paddling, _now_ , or get off!"

His eyes wide, not about to challenge a mad woman with a sharp object pointed at his jugular, the guard gestured for those aboard to listen to her.

Grabbing a paddle, Madame Potts grinned, gently nudging Marie as their boat began making its way back toward the survivors.

"Nicely done, my dear," she whispered, and Marie smiled subtly, lifting a paddle herself.

"Someone once told me to live every day as if it may be my last. If this is my last day, I intend to spend it doing the right thing."

Listening to her words, the guard felt a surge of shame and grabbed his own paddle, lifting a torch from his pocket so that he could scan for survivors once they got close enough.

* * *

It had grown quiet. First the screams had faded away, and then the splashing, until there was nothing at all. Nothing but Adam's voice, floating faintly through the darkness as he shivered, softly singing in Belle's ear the lullaby that his mother had always sung him whenever he'd come to her, ill or frightened by a nightmare.

" _Days in the sun… when my life has barely begun… Not until my whole life is done, will I ever leave you…_ "

It was so terribly, terribly cold. Kissing Belle's forehead, Adam drew in a quivering breath, certain that he wouldn't be able to stay awake much longer. Belle had fallen asleep, despite his best efforts, about twenty minutes ago.

Then, just when he'd begun to lose hope that anybody was going to come for them, he heard it. Faint and off in the distance, but it was undoubtedly the sound of paddles, whistling, and shouting.

"… _alive out there…? Is… out there…? …anybody… there?_ "

Exhaling a wheezing breath, Adam gently squeezed Belle's shoulder, the ghost of a smile pulling at his lips.

"I told you, _mon amour_ … I told you they'd come back for us…"

" _Is anybody… out there?_ " _**Whistle.**_ " _Is anybody alive out there?_ "

Adam could hear the paddles growing closer and gently gave Belle's shoulder a shake, trying to wake her up.

"Belle. You've got to wake up, my love; they've come for us…"

But she didn't move. Not even in the slightest. Frowning, Adam shook her harder, drawing in a trembling breath as panic settled into his heart. No. _No, no, no_. She was just asleep. She _had_ to just be asleep. They'd made it this far, they'd survived, they'd…

"Belle, please! There's a boat! You have to _wake up!_ "

She still didn't move. She didn't even breathe. At some point, her body temperature must have dropped critically despite his best attempts at keeping her warm; she'd already been freezing before they even hit the water, due to that stupid dress, and she'd been shivering terribly when she emerged at the surface. Pair that up with the cold night air that they'd been sitting in for the past who knew how long, and it was a bad combination.

A deadly combination.

Heaving a sob, Adam pressed his forehead to Belle's, his tears falling onto her cold cheeks as he pressed kisses to her eyelids, her nose, her mouth. She'd been so warm when they were in his bed mere hours ago, and now she felt like a solid block of ice. He'd let this happen. He hadn't even realized when she slipped away. She'd risked so much to keep him alive and he'd let her die.

Trembling, a loud, agonized sound passed through his lips. He continued to scream and sob and defy every deity he'd ever considered existing because no _just_ God would ever take Belle away when they had been so close to surviving. No _just_ God would snuff out the light of such a wonderful, innocent individual.

There couldn't possibly be a God behind a world so cruel.

His agonized, animalistic sobs ended up drawing the attention of the boat floating nearby, and it was Marie's hands that gripped his shoulders and helped to pull Adam from the water. After that, everything went dark.

* * *

When Adam awoke, everything felt grey and dim. He was swathed in blankets but he still felt cold. Feebly turning his head to the side, he found Marie fast asleep in a chair beside his bed.

There was a part of him that wanted to believe that it had all been a terrible nightmare. That Belle was fine, asleep below deck with Plumette. That they would be docking in New York any minute. The terribly present aching all throughout his body told a different story.

After a few moments, Marie stirred, her eyes widening when she realized that he was awake. She quickly leaned forward and reached for his hand. He was too exhausted to protest.

"Oh, thank God. The doctor said that you would wake up, but I was starting to worry that-"

"Don't," Adam murmured, his eyes blank as he stared straight ahead. "Don't do that."

Frowning, Marie gently squeezed his hand.

"Don't do what…?"

"Don't _thank God_ ," he snapped, squeezing his eyes shut. "God let all of this happen. We have nothing to thank him, or any other deity, for."

"We're alive, aren't we?" Marie prompted gently and Adam opened his eyes, almost daring, for a moment, to hope.

"Belle…?"

Marie's expression slipped and, looking down, she gave a small shake of her head.

"She was already gone, Adam. We brought her back with us, because you kept screaming that you wouldn't leave without her, but… there was nothing that anyone could do." Blinking back tears, she whispered, "I'm sorry."

Slumping back into the mattress, he squeezed his eyes shut again. It hadn't been a nightmare. No matter how badly he wanted to shove it all away and have it be a twisted dream, it had all happened. The _Titanic_ sank and Belle was gone.

"She…" Marie started to speak, waiting until Adam forced his eyes open again to continue. "She had this on her, when we pulled her out of the water. It was in her jacket pocket. I'm… assuming it belongs to you?"

Frowning, Adam looked down to find a small velvet box in Marie's hand, reluctantly taking it from her. He knew what would be inside without even opening it. His father must have grabbed it from the safe before he handed his coat over to Belle.

Flipping the box open, he frowned weakly as he watched the Prince's Rose sparkle. How, through the hell that they had all just endured, did that _damn ring_ emerge unscathed?

"My father wasted half of our fortune on this," he mumbled hoarsely, pulling the ring out of the box and staring at it intensely. "I was supposed to give it to you, so you could tote it around and make everyone think we were still wealthy. Instead, I gave it to Belle and he used it to frame her for thievery."

Scowling, Adam chucked the ring across the room. It hit the mirror poised above a vanity, the diamond taking a chink out of the glass before it rolled somewhere on the floor. Drawing in a quivering breath, he did his best to repress his tears, squeezing his eyes shut. Frowning weakly, Marie leaned forward and ran a comforting hand through his hair.

"It wasn't your fault. None of what happened was your fault. You have to understand that."

"How is it not my fault? She was in a lifeboat, Marie! She was safe! She _jumped out_ for me, and then she froze to death! She's dead because of me! I killed her! I loved her, and I _killed_ her!"

"Adam, stop it!"

Getting to her feet, Marie pointed firmly at him.

"You didn't _make_ Belle do a single thing. She did what she did because _she_ loved _you_ , and she couldn't bear to leave you alone. Can you honestly say that you wouldn't have done the exact same thing for her if the tables were turned?"

Frowning, Adam said nothing and Marie sighed, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"What was the last thing that she said to you?"

Glancing up at her, Adam narrowed his eyes with confusion.

"What…?"

"What was the last thing that Belle said to you?"

Pursing his lips, Adam tipped his head back into the pillows and stared up at the ceiling, rain hitting the porthole while he thought over her question. The RMS Carpathia, which had picked up the survivors in the lifeboats, steamed onward toward New York.

"She made me promise that life would be wonderful and that I would be happy," he finally said, and the words pierced his heart like a dagger. She'd continually spoken singularly and made him make _that_ particular promise. It was as if she knew that she was going to die.

"Are you going to keep that promise?" Marie asked and Adam fell silent for a long time. On one hand, how could he? Without Belle, making it to New York seemed meaningless. But on the other hand, it had been her dying wish. Didn't he owe it to her to at least… try?

Closing his eyes again, Adam chose to nod, unable to find his voice. For Belle, he would try to be happy. He would live the life that she would have wanted him to lead. He would do it all for her.

* * *

 **\- April 14** **th** **1922 -**

" _Professor Delacour! Wait!_ "

Glancing up from the warn copy of the book that he had been reading, Adam smiled at the young woman jogging to catch up with him. She was an art student, he believed, over at Barnard College. Very into Impressionism. She had, however, only ever taken one of his classes, so he was rather surprised that she'd hunted him down on this particular rainy afternoon.

"How can I help you, Miss…?"

"Kitsworth," she responded, pushing her dark hair back from her face as she caught her breath, shaking her head.

"Ah, yes. You were in my Shakespeare class, weren't you?"

"I was," she confirmed, slowing her pace to match his, peeking up at him uncertainly. Adam couldn't help the way her gaze peaked his curiosity.

"What is it you were chasing me for, might I ask?"

"Oh!" Blushing, she smiled sheepishly, hugging herself as they walked. "I… I read your book."

"I see," Adam nodded, glancing over at her after a moment. "Which one?"

Blushing further, Miss Kitsworth shook her head at her own vagueness, quickly clarifying, " _An Ocean_ of _Memories_. It was your second work of fiction, I believe."

Humming, Adam nodded, closing his book and offering the girl a faint smile as they walked.

"It was. I wrote it shortly after publishing a narrative lyric suite-"

"-retelling _Le Belle et le Bete_ ," the girl finished for him, her gaze wistful. "The poetry in that was lovely. It far surpassed the original, in my opinion."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Adam sighed, putting up his umbrella when the rain turned from a drizzle to more insistent drops, extending it so she could step beneath it as well. "The original holds a special place in my heart. But you mentioned _An Ocean of Memories_?"

"Yes! Oh, yes. Professor Delacour, it was _wonderful_. With how tragic everyone remembers the sinking of the _Titanic_ being, I didn't think that anyone could make it so… so… _romantic_."

"It wasn't romantic. It _was_ tragic," Adam countered, looking down at her, offering up a small smile when she looked taken aback. "But the days before the sinking… _They_ were quite romantic."

Her eyes widening, Miss Kitsworth all but pounced on the subject. "So it's true? You really were aboard the Titanic? Everyone has been whispering about it for _years_ , ever since you published your book, but no one's ever wanted to ask-"

"Oh, plenty of people have asked. It's just a subject that I prefer not to talk about very much, so I always ask those who _do_ ask to tell their friends that I had nothing to say. It keeps people from breaking down my office door, demanding that I retell my story when everything of importance can be found in my book."

Her eyes widening even further, the girl gently grabbed onto Adam's tweed jacket, all but gaping at him.

"You mean that none of that story is made up?" Lowering her voice, she whispered, "… _were you Jack?_ "

Barking out a laugh at the question, Adam shook his head, grinning as he looked down at her.

"Oh, no, my dear. Not Jack." Lowering his own voice, he whispered, "I was _Rose_."

"You were… Wait, what?" she asked, frowning, and Adam reopened his book, walking alongside her. After a moment, she recognized it as an old copy of _Romeo and Juliet_. Despite his disparaging of it in the class that she had taken with him, the amount of annotations in the margins made her think that he had a secret fondness for the play.

"I was Rose," he repeated, smirking at her. "Rose DeWitt Bukater is my alias, _for a rose by any other name would smell as sweet_."

"You can't be serious," Miss Kitsworth countered, and Adam arched an eyebrow at her.

"Rose survives, doesn't she? She lives on to tell the story of what happened. She lives to a ripe old age, to be exact, and then she and Jack are reunited in the afterlife. _I_ survived. _I_ lived on to tell the story of what happened. And I hope I live to a ripe old age, as well."

Furrowing her brow, Miss Kitsworth continued to walk alongside him, trying to wrap her head around the concept. "But, does that mean… was Jack… Professor, are you-?"

"No, no, my dear." Chuckling under his breath, Adam sighed, flipping the page of his book as they walked. "No, 'Jack' was a woman. A wonderful, lively, fearless young woman."

Glancing up at him while he read, Miss Kitsworth was quiet for a moment before she asked, "And do you hope to be reunited with her in the afterlife?"

Pausing in his steps, Adam glanced up from his book, offering his student a small smile.

"I hope so with all of my heart," he confirmed, carefully sheltering her from the rain with his umbrella. "Why else would I have written it that way?"

* * *

" _A glooming peace this morning with it brings; the sun, for sorrow, will not show his head. Go hence, to have more to talk of these sad things; some shall be pardon'd, and some punished. For never was there a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo._ "

Closing his decade old copy of the book, Adam heaved a sigh, giving his head a shake.

"I still can't understand why it's your favourite, my love. Forgive me, for I have _tried_ ; I've made meticulous notes and hashed it out with my students and colleagues, but it's still a mystery to me."

Glancing at the stone he had been reading to for the past few hours, Adam reached forward and traced his fingertips over the lettering:

 **Belle Delacour  
1885-1912  
Beloved Wife & Friend to All  
** _ **"And though she be but little, she is fierce."**_

When the Carpathia docked in New York, Adam had made the decision that his life was going to change tremendously. He would do everything that he could to honour Belle's memory, and the promises that he had made to her. Thus, with Marie's help, he disappeared from society. Lord Adam DeLeroy Tolbert d'Avignon, along with his father, the Earl of Avignon, went down with the _Titanic_.

Adam Delacour was a devoted husband who had tragically lost his young wife in the wreck, and buried her in a small cemetery in New York, close to the University of Columbia. She was buried wearing her engagement ring – a diamond obtained in a game of chance somewhere in France. He then used his education, obtained in Europe, to become a professor of literature and art at one of the university's colleges. He became a revered educator and author, but he never remarried.

Every year, on the anniversary of the _Titanic_ 's sinking, Adam Delacour would bring red roses and a copy of _Romeo and Juliet_ to his wife's grave and he read to her. The entire play, from front to back, rain or shine. When a colleague of his asked him why, he responded with, " _God knows why, but it was her favourite._ "

"I spoke with a student of mine today," he told Belle, lying back on the grass and closing his eyes, pretending for just a moment that she might actually answer him. "An art student – I think you would have liked her. She read _An Ocean of Memories_ \- and she thought that _I_ was Jack. Can you believe that? _Me_ , Jack Dawson!"

Chuckling to himself, Adam opened his eyes, glancing at the roses at the base of her grave, drawing in a deep breath as drops of rain fell onto his face.

"Not a day passes that I don't wish that story had a different ending," he whispered, gently touching the rose petals. "But I don't regret it. I don't regret a single page of our wonderful story. And I do have hope, my love; I have hope that we'll be together again, someday, somewhere, somehow…"

* * *

"You're here!"

Catching Marie up in his arms when she threw open the door to her flat, Adam chuckled, hugging her fiercely. Yet another tradition that he'd kept up for the past decade was dinner, at her house, every April 14th. They kept it touch more often than just that, of course, but April 14th was their single solid date. They never missed it.

After her engagement was broken off following her fiancé's "tragic death", Marie failed to agree to another betrothal. It resulted in her being stripped of her fortune and disowned by her bitter father, but she hadn't cared. It meant that she could finally be with Anna, even if they had to keep it a secret for the most part. To the general public, they were flat mates. But Adam knew that they were much, much more.

"Have you already been to…?" she asked and Adam nodded, holding up his copy of _Romeo and Juliet_ with a faint smile before stepping in out of the rain and shrugging off his coat, hanging it on the rack.

"She would be proud, you know," Marie told him, lifting a hand to his cheek, "of everything that you've done; of who you've become. I'll bet she looks down on you and smiles everyday."

"Oh, I'm sure she's far too busy for that," he chuckled, grinning softly and kissing the top of Marie's head, exhaling a soft noise when he was suddenly ambushed by Madame Potts who had heard Marie's exclamation from where she'd been fussing about in the kitchen.

"Oh, it's so good to see you!" she gushed, hugging him so tightly that he had trouble breathing for a moment, and he couldn't help but laugh and return the gesture. "Take off your shoes and get in here; I've just made a fresh pot of tea. You look like you could use it. You're soaked, my dear!"

"I was to see Belle," he explained, attempting to justify his rumpled, grass-stained appearance and Madame Potts' smile softened as she reached up to affectionately pat his cheek. At that moment, a tall, gangly teenage boy poked his head out of the sitting room, a bright smile spreading across his face.

"Adam!"

"Chip!" he called in return, embracing him tightly and mussing his hair, and they all smiled when Anna, her blonde hair tied up and an apron on over her dress, popped out of the kitchen.

"Dinner won't be much longer. We're just waiting on the pies," she confirmed, her expression softening when she noticed their newest arrival. "How was Belle?"

Smiling faintly, Adam nodded, letting go of Chip so everyone could head into the small kitchen of Marie and Anna's flat.

"She's wonderful," he responded, glancing down at the book in his hands.

His life, strange as it may be, _had_ turned out rather wonderful, just as Belle had wanted it to.

 _And he was happy._

Adam Delacour went on to teach at Columbia for many decades to follow, and he wrote more books in his time there, before retiring at the age of 85. He kept up all of his April 14th traditions until 1997, when he fell asleep, warm in his bed, and peacefully passed on.


	6. Hymn to the Sea

**Chapter 6: "Hymn to the Sea"**

As consciousness slowly began to pull at Adam, he noticed that he felt… _off_. There was none of the bleary, ever-present grogginess that had settled in over the past few years. In fact, he felt more alert than he remembered feeling in over a decade.

He also felt warm. Not feverish, like the beginnings of an illness, but… like there was an excess of body heat surrounding him. It was all terribly strange. He was certain that he couldn't have gotten sick, if that was what had come over him; he'd felt fine, utterly normal, when he went to bed, and the only person who he had interacted with recently was Chip and the man in question had been in perfectly good health during his visit.

Figuring that there was no way he was going to get to the bottom of the peculiar sensations overcoming him this morning unless he got up, Adam opened his eyes –

\- and sucked in a startled breath, his gaze flitting wildly around. He wasn't where he'd been when he had fallen asleep, that much was certain. Gone were the familiar bookshelf-lined walls of his two-story flat in New York, and there was no sunlight filtering into the room from the left side of the bed like he had grown so used to over the years. In fact, there was no natural light in the room at all. It was only illuminated by electric lights – a sort that he was certain he hadn't seen since the mid-1920s.

What Adam found dreadfully eerie was that he felt as if he had seen this room before. It was a distant, almost suppressed memory, but he knew that he recognized it. The paintings on the walls, the chandelier hanging from the ceiling – even the sheets felt _familiar_ against his skin. The softest of silk with a plush, embroidered quilt. It was that which made him pause.

The sheets felt familiar against his _skin_. Every inch of his skin, to be exact, because he was certain that he was completely and utterly naked. Exhaling a startled, distressed sound at the realization, only growing more concerned when his own voice sounded foreign to him, Adam attempted to bolt upright, only to find that a shifting heaviness atop him was weighing him down.

His gaze flitting downward for the first time, Adam felt his already panicked breath hitch. His skin was no longer wrinkled; what he could see of it from the waist up, not covered by the sheets, was as pristinely youthful as it had been when he was in his twenties. But that wasn't what caught his breath and made his heart stop.

Staring up at him, smiling sleepily with her hair mussed and her brown eyes soft, was _Belle_. Belle, who had been dead since 1912. Belle, who he had buried and whose grave he had visited for the past 85 years. Belle, who looked… impossibly _alive_.

The longer he stared at her, utterly speechless and hardly able to breathe, the more amused her fond expression became.

"You look as if you've seen a ghost," she teased him, shifting so that she could hover over him, her hair tickling his cheeks before she leaned closer to bump her nose against his. At the feeling – _and if he felt it, he couldn't be dreaming, could he?_ – he gasped in a quiet breath, his fingers instinctively pressing into her bare back. She _felt_ real, but it wasn't possible. She was gone. She'd been gone for so, so long…

"Belle…?"

"Yes?" she sighed, letting herself lay on top of him again, draping her arms on the pillows over his head. Adam felt a familiarly overwhelmed – the way her skin felt against his, her warmth thawing the ice that surrounded him; her scent, washing over him in waves of charcoal and floral perfume; and her _light_ – the blinding brightness that radiated from the core of her very being, shining into the dark corners of his soul every time that she smiled or laughed or said his name. He was overwhelmed by everything that, when combined together, made _Belle_.

"You're here," he whispered hoarsely, shakily lifting a hand to her cheek, skimming his fingers over her skin before his other hand came up, as well, both delicately cupping her face. "But you _can't_ be here…"

"I believe there was an entire plan hatched last night so that I _could_ be here," she countered and he furrowed his brow, gazing up at her with obvious confusion.

"What…?"

Her own brow drawing downward slightly as she smiled, Belle brought her hand up to gently feel Adam's forehead, smoothing her palm down to his cheek afterward.

"Are you feeling quite well, _mon cher?_ "

"I'm… I honestly don't know," Adam admitted, frowning and moving his hands away from her cheeks to examine them. He was _young_. When he'd gone to sleep he had been over a century old. _Now?_ Now, he was lying in bed without a wrinkle on his naked body with Belle sprawled atop him. _Belle!_ None of this made sense. None of this was _possible_. Yet, it didn't feel like a dream. He felt alert, and awake, and he could feel her body against his. It was just as intoxicating as it had been that night in 1912.

And that's when it hit him – why this room felt so _familiar_.

It was his private room in the suite that he had shared with Marie, Lumiere, and his father aboard the _RMS Titanic_ before the ship sank. It was all exactly as it had been back then, right down to the pink and red roses filling the air with their scent from their respective vases around the room, and the art he had hung on the walls for the journey. All of it was _exactly the same_.

The only difference was that he'd never had the pleasure of waking up in this absurdly comfortable bed with Belle in his arms. A certain iceberg had ruined any and all hope of that ever happening. Less than four hours after they made love, the ship sank and she froze to death.

"I don't understand," he said aloud, his voice wavering, allowing Belle to roll off of his chest so that he could sit up, pushing his hands through his hair. His full head of _blond_ hair. When he had gone to sleep, it had been grey and patchy. Surely this couldn't be real. There was simply no way.

But Belle sitting up, gently running her hands down his forearms and planting a soft kiss on his shoulder, _felt_ real. It felt so wonderfully real. It felt so real that it brought tears to his eyes and he had to squeeze them shut to keep them from falling. When she spoke, the concern in her voice was palpable.

" _Adam_. Darling, what's wrong?" When he simply shook his head, she ran tender fingers through his hair, hugging the blankets to her chest and scooting closer to him, wiping the tears from his cheeks before gently taking hold of his chin and making him look at her. "What has you so shaken…?"

His breathing wavered as he took in her expression; the love shining in her eyes, the concerned downturn of her warm mouth, the slight flush of her cheeks. He couldn't possibly be dreaming her so vividly. She'd been growing dimmer in his dreams for years now, almost to the point where he couldn't make out her face, and it had eaten him alive. His dreams and his memories had been the only place that she still existed after she died; to lose her there, too, had simply been too much for him.

But here she was, as alive and present as the day he met her, cradling his face like there was nothing in the world more precious to her. Reaching out, he enveloped her in his arms and pulled her into his lap, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. When she embraced him in return, it was all he could do not to tighten his arms around her and cling to her like a lifeline.

"You were dead," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut again. "The ship sank, and you _died_ … So many people died… You saved _me_ , but I couldn't save _you_ , no matter how hard I tried-"

"Oh, my darling," she whispered breathlessly in response, tightening her arms around him and shaking her head. "What an awful, _awful_ nightmare."

"It… It wasn't a nightmare. It _happened_ ," he disagreed, frowning faintly and opening his eyes, holding her tighter. "You _died_. You're dead, and that's why you _can't be here_. None of this should be here! It's all been at the bottom of the ocean for 85 years!"

"Adam, _calm down_ ," Belle told him when he began to hyperventilate, cupping his cheeks and shaking her head, gently brushing her thumbs against his skin. "Do I look dead?"

Frowning even more, he struggled to find the right words to say. "Well… _no_ , but-"

"Do I _feel_ dead?"

"Wh-?" he began to ask, only for his breath to hitch when she rocked her hips tantalizingly against his from her spot on his lap. Sucking in a deep breath, he tightened his hold on her, blinking rapidly, " _Ah_ – no… but-!"

"But _nothing_ ," she cut him off, her tone tender yet serious, her gaze never once moving from his. "If I don't look dead, and I don't feel dead, then _I'm not dead_. I'm here, with you, and I'm perfectly fine. In fact, I think that I've never been better."

The laughter that bubbled from Belle was so light and happy that Adam thought he might burst. Every logical thought in his head argued that this was all impossible. He was positive that the ship had sank, and he'd held Belle while she died. He'd lived for _eighty-five years_ after the fact.

But yet, here she was. Alive, and happy, and so delightfully within reach. She wasn't six feet below the ground. She was here, in his arms, and she was blissfully warm – not deathly cold.

Perhaps… Perhaps it _had_ all been a nightmare. The more he tried to remember life in New York, at Columbia, without Belle, the fuzzier it all became. His recollection of last night, on the other hand, was becoming much clearer.

Marie, Madame Potts and Lumiere had devised a plan to help the two of them avoid his father and spend the night together. A blissful, giggly, story-filled night with charcoal drawings that left smudges in several places on their skin, her fingers smearing it onto his face as they kissed while his body moved atop hers, his own fingers growing stained with the black dust while he clutched her hands, their fingers intertwined. They had made love well into the night until Belle fell asleep, warm and sated and utterly happy, in his arms.

Blowing out a shuddering breath, he pulled her body closer to his in his arms, burying his nose in her hair and greedily breathing her in, deciding then and there that he was never going to let her go ever again.

"Oh, my darling Belle…" he mumbled against her skin, his fingers gliding up her spine to tangle in her hair before he drew back, pressing kiss after kiss to her lips. Chuckling softly at his enthusiasm, she used her hold on his cheeks to draw him back down onto the mattress to hover above her, pulling his lips to hers for a proper kiss once they were situated. But he wasn't content to stop there. After having such a dreadful dream where she'd been lost to him entirely, he wanted nothing more than to worship her over and over again.

Her chuckles turning into surprised giggles as his kisses ventured down the column of her throat, Belle drew in a soft, shaky breath when his lips continued further, exploring each of her breasts in turn before he slipped lower, beneath the blankets, down her stomach and between her legs until –

" _Oh!_ "

* * *

Groggily opening her eyes, Plumette instinctively nestled her head against its resting place, content to stay there for a few hours longer, if possible. It was so wonderfully peaceful. She could hear the ocean crashing and rocking outside of their porthole, and smell the salty sea breeze –

\- and then she abruptly sat upright, a surge of panic running through her entire body. It was as if the sound of the water had triggered some sort of reaction, and her heart was hammering in her chest, leaving her in such a state that she barely heard the sleepy whisper of her name nor felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her, a warm mouth pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Did you have a nightmare, _mon amour_ …?"

Breathing shakily, Plumette leaned back against Lumiere's chest, her hands quivering as she rested them over his at her abdomen.

"I… I must have, yes," she breathed, cringing away slightly from the porthole that had so offensively pulled her from her peaceful state. One of the children must have opened it a crack last night before they all fell asleep. It was now open wide, likely blown that way from the wind, and rain was spitting in, dampening Plumette's cheeks, her dress, and the mattress beneath them.

"Ugh," she whispered, rubbing her cheek dry with her sleeve, "I am all _wet!_ "

Chuckling, Lumiere pressed a smattering of kisses along the column of her throat, hugging her tightly to his chest and, upon tickling her stomach, drawing a peel of laughter from his newfound beloved's throat.

"No amount of water can extinguish your beauty, ma chérie," he purred and she giggled again, turning her head to steal a kiss from his lips, forcing herself to keep it chaste – after all, they weren't alone. Her bunkmate and two children were still asleep across the room from them.

"Oh, Lumiere," she sighed, curling up and hugging herself close to him again, "You _are_ a charmer."

Unfortunately, in then occurred to Lumiere that they had fallen asleep. He wasn't supposed to have fallen asleep! It was a crucial part of the plan that he be in the suite early enough to sneak Belle out and sneak Marie _in_ before the Earl woke up and figured out that he had been bamboozled.

" _Sacré bleu!_ I must go, before his lordship finds Mademoiselle Belle!"

Making a soft, startled noise, Plumette nodded and gestured for him to go, climbing down from the top bunk after him and walking him out into the hall. As much as she would have liked to have kept Lumiere all to herself, he did have a job to do; a very noble job, indeed.

"You will come back, won't you? Once Belle is safe?"

Pausing at the foot of the staircase, Lumiere flashed her a grin and nodded, winking flirtatiously.

"But of course, _ma chérie_. I will _always_ come for you."

Watching as he bounded up the stairs, Plumette couldn't repress her giggles, blushing as she retreated back to her room.

* * *

Pushing open the door at the top of the last flight of stairs and emerging out onto the top deck, Lumiere frowned with confusion at the sight before him. A crowd had built near the edge of the ship and he felt a strange sense of déjà vu, shaking it away and stepping out into the rain to investigate. To his surprise, both Marie and Madame Potts were among the onlookers, both wrapped up in warm coats.

"What has happened?" he asked when he reached them and Marie looked up, doing her best to look at least a bit upset, but her expression still came off as relatively careless.

"One of the berg watchers saw something rather dreadful last night," she stated, but her tone didn't convey that it truly was 'dreadful'.

"Oh?" Lumiere asked, furrowing his brow, and she nodded.

"They were doing their jobs, keeping an eye out for icebergs, and they saw a man topple right over the edge of the stern. The guards were saying that they saw no such thing, but now that they can see properly, they've found a torn gentleman's jacket stuck to a bolt on the hull. They managed to pull it up."

"That _is_ dreadful," Lumiere stated, baffled at how indifferent Marie was – it was as if she truly didn't care at all that some poor man was dead! If the fall alone didn't kill him, he had to have been sucked in and torn to bits by the propellers.

Shrugging, Marie shook her head and Madame Potts cleared up her indifference by stating, "They think it was the Earl d'Avignon. It was his jacket."

"… _oh_." His eyes widening, Lumiere asked, "Has anyone told Monsieur Adam?"

"Not yet," Madame Potts stated, pursing her lips. "We're not sure how to do it. The proper way to tell him would be to apologize for his loss, but… well, it's not really much of a _loss_ , now, is it?"

"Not in the slightest," Lumiere muttered, sighing and rubbing his mustache, nodding decisively after a moment. "I will tell him. I was headed there, anyway."

Both women nodded, turning their attention back to the crowd surrounding the side of the ship. Some people were even crying. Clearly, they had never met the Earl.

* * *

" _Oh_ … Adam, I'm… _I'm_ … _!_ "

Her jaw dropping, Belle squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled a low, shaky moan as she clutched at his back, beads of sweat coating her skin. What had started as merely Adam coaxing along Belle's pleasure had resulted in them making love for the umpteenth time between the silk sheets. A moment after Belle found her release, Adam followed with his own, moaning into her shoulder as he supported himself, trembling, on his elbows.

They were both reeling with post-orgasmic bliss, breathing shakily and clutching at each other and the sheets, when there was a knock at the door.

Adam went rigid. Sucking in a harsh breath of air, he dug his fingers into the blankets, doing his best to sound normal whilst still cradled between Belle's hips as he asked, " _Yes…?_ "

" _Monsieur Adam? It is only me. Mademoiselle Belle needn't worry. Your father, he… he is not here._ "

Relaxing, Adam slowly exhaled, pressing a lingering kiss to Belle's forehead before forcing himself to move off of her, rolling onto his back and running a hand through his damp hair, closing his eyes and doing his best to get his breathing under control.

"Just a moment, Lumiere."

" _Of course, mon amie._ "

Pushing himself out of bed, Adam crossed over to the wardrobe in the corner, hastily dressing in a pair of tweed trousers and a white shirt, throwing on a vest over it on the off chance that his father did stroll in. He would never hear the end of being underdressed.

Doing up the buttons and slipping on his shoes, Adam cracked a smile at the sight of Belle, flushed and sprawled among the blankets, clearly still trying to get her breathing back to normal. He found himself incredibly satisfied by that fact. Walking into the bathroom, he fetched her a glass of water, perching on the edge of the bed upon returning and running a tender hand through her hair as he extended the drink toward her.

"I'll only be a moment. Don't go anywhere."

His smirk was infectious and Belle couldn't help the breathless giggle that slipped past her lips, taking the glass from him and exhaling a sigh.

"I don't think I could even if I wanted to," she stated, earning a chuckle from Adam who bent and stole a kiss from her lips before walking out into the drawing room, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

"What did you need, old friend?" he prompted Lumiere, putting his hands in his pockets as he stepped forward, and Lumiere rubbed his mustache, clearly at a loss.

"I need to tell you something, Monsieur. The trouble is, I don't know how."

"Well, that sounds rather foreboding," Adam chuckled, still riding on his Belle-high, crossing over to take the stopper out of the brandy decanter, pouring some into a glass. Lifting it to his lips, he paused at the troubled expression on Lumiere's face.

"Is something the matter?" he asked, lowering the crystal glass from his lips, and Lumiere made a quiet, frustrated noise.

"I do not _know!_ "

Blinking, stunned at the outburst, Adam put his glass back down while a frown tugged at his lips.

"What on earth-?"

"I do not know if something is 'the matter', per-say, because I do not know if this news will sadden or gladden you! I do not know how to approach such a thing!"

"You needn't with the dramatics, Lumiere," Adam stated, frowning pointedly now. "Just _tell me_. I mean no offense, but I _really_ have something else that I would rather be doing-"

"Your father is dead."

His words falling silent on his tongue, Adam froze, attempting to process the words that were just thrown at him. Dead? His father? The Earl was _dead?_

"That's impossible," Adam retorted, shaking his head. "How can he be dead? He was in perfect health-"

"Evidently, he fell overboard sometime late last night. He fell from the stern, and they weren't sure who it was until they found the remnants of a jacket. It belonged to-"

"My father," Adam finished, slowly lowering himself to sit on the settee, knitting his brow together. Dead. His father was dead. Swimming with the fishes, all too literally. _Gone._

After what felt like an eternity, and in reality had been about two decades, Adam heaved a trembling sigh of… _relief_.

It was dreadful and he knew it. He aught to be mourning the loss of such an immediate family member, but all that blasted man had ever done was menace him. Abuse him. Bully him. Force him into doing things that he hadn't wanted to do. As dreadful as the way it had occurred was… he was finally _gone_.

"Are you alright, _mon amie?_ " Lumiere finally asked and Adam nodded, grabbing his brandy glass and downing its contents in one gulp, setting the glass back down again before drawing in a slow breath.

"I really and truly am," he stated, getting to his feet, not hesitating before hugging Lumiere. Through the years of utter misery, he had always been there. He'd witnessed it all and helped Adam pick up the pieces of his father's rage more times than he could count. As their valet, truly no one knew the Earl's true colours as well as Lumiere did.

After a few stunned seconds, Lumiere returned the gesture. When Adam pulled back, he had a faint smile on his lips, another wave of relief washing over him when he realized that this also meant he didn't have to worry for Belle anymore. With his father gone, no one would ever try to hurt her. They didn't have to plot and sneak around. They could just get off of the _Titanic_ and _be together_.

"Oh, Lumiere," he breathed, drawing back and walking toward the bedroom, "I'm _wonderful_."

* * *

Remaining sprawled in Adam's bed for a few long moments, Belle drank the water he had given to her before sitting up, pushing her damp hair out of her face, pausing in lowering her hand when she caught sight of it.

There, poised on her ring finger, was the Prince's Rose. Adam had slipped it onto her finger last night, shortly after their first round in his bed, and she'd been utterly flabbergasted. He'd said the most wonderful things, about running away together and selling it and making a comfortable life for themselves, but she knew in her heart that they could never do such a thing. Run away? She would do it in a heartbeat. But to pawn a priceless diamond that in no way belonged to her? Something about that just felt… wrong.

Frowning at the sparkling, gold clad gem, Belle narrowed her eyes, only looking up when the door opened and Adam returned, closing it softly behind him. Dropping her hand into her lap, she watched as he leaned against the door rather than coming straight back to her.

"My father is dead," he said before she could even ask any questions, and Belle felt her eyes widen. What was she supposed to say to that? 'I'm sorry' felt like a lie because, if the Earl really was dead, she wasn't sorry about it. It meant that he couldn't hurt Adam anymore, and she would never be sorry for that.

Instead, she settled for, "How?"

Pushing himself away from the door, Adam walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, lying down after a moment and tucking his arm beneath the pillow at his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

"He fell from the stern. No one knows how, apparently. They found his jacket, so they're sure it was him."

"He fell from the…?" Belle whispered, her eyes widening at the dreadful irony.

"That could have been me, Belle," he stated, slowly turning his head to look at her. "I could have been the one who fell, and it would have been my jacket that they found. I would surely be dead right now, if I hadn't met you."

She opened her mouth, trying desperately to find the right words for this situation, but they wouldn't come. She was completely at a loss. For the first time in her life, she had no idea what to say.

Adam, however, knew exactly what he wanted to say.

"You saved my life, Belle, in more ways than you can possibly know. I was… _miserable_ before I met you; so miserable that I genuinely thought that death would be a more favourable option than continuing to live. I was alone, and numb, and drowning in the darkness… and then you pulled me back from the precipice.

"You're everything that I've been missing. When I felt trapped, you showed me that I didn't have to be – that I could be _free_. You took the numbness that I had resigned myself to and you reminded me what truly living feels like; from the moment my mother died, I think that I forgot entirely. Then you grabbed my hand and made me dance with you, and my heart was pounding the entire time, and I couldn't remember the last time that I felt so… _alive_. You took the darkness that I've been surrounded by for decades, and you brightened everything up again. You truly are my light in the darkness, _mon amour_ , and I never want to lose sight of it again."

Sitting up, he gently took a hold of Belle's hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing each of her knuckles as he spoke, not missing the tears already sparkling in her eyes.

"Marry me, Belle Delacour. Marry me, and we'll be together forever."

Sniffling, Belle drew back to look at him, giving her head a little shake.

"You have to ask me properly," she prompted, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "You and I both know that I'm dreadful at doing what I'm told. You can't _tell me_ to marry you; you've got to _ask me_."

Blinking, Adam couldn't help but laugh, his grin only growing. She was right; she _was_ rubbish at doing as she was told. He'd told her to stay away from him and look at how well she'd listened to _that_.

"Belle Delacour," he repeated, taking her hand in his again, pressing a kiss to her fingers directly above the ring already sparkling there, " _Will you_ marry me?"

Grinning softly, she scrunched her nose up and bumped it against his, opening her eyes to peer affectionately into his.

"Well, I don't think that I can think of any better way to spend the rest of my life…" she teased him and he snickered, taking hold of her shoulders and sending them toppling down onto the mattress again while she giggled.

"You _minx_ ," he quipped, grinning and mercilessly tickling her sides through the blankets, "If I have to _ask_ properly, then you have to _answer_ properly."

"Alright, alright!" she squealed through her laughter, squirming beneath him as he tickled her. "Yes! Yes, I'll marry you! Just stop _tickling_ me!"

Letting his hands fall at her sides, Adam grinned and shook his head, lifting one hand to gently trace his fingertip down her jawline.

"Well, you see, now I think you're only saying yes so I won't tickle you anymore."

"And if I am?" she continued to tease him, biting back her laughter at his thoughtful expression, her giggles breaking free when he took her up in his arms and rolled over, hugging her, tangled in the blankets, to his chest and pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

"I'll still take it," he murmured, grinning when she laughed, trailing a gentle hand down her arm to tangle their fingers together. His thumb brushing over the Prince's Rose, a small frown pulled at his lips and he held her hand up for both of them to examine.

"This just won't do," he sighed and Belle arched an eyebrow, gazing at him skeptically.

"Are you saying that a ring worth more than the Hope Diamond isn't _good enough?_ "

"That's precisely what I'm saying," he confirmed, gently sliding it off of her finger and shaking his head, holding it closer to their faces. "It's worth a fortune, but it's meaningless. That's not good enough."

"Well, what do you suggest?" Belle asked, resting her head on his chest and peeking up at him, and Adam offered her a small, soft smile.

"Marie's got my mother's ring. It, unlike this, means the world to me. I'm sure she wouldn't be opposed to a trade."

A rush of relief running through Belle, she smiled softly and nodded, finding that to be a perfectly acceptable way of dealing with the Prince's Rose. Marie deserved it. Not to mention, the fact that Adam wanted her to wear his mother's ring made her heart beat a bit faster.

Leaning up, she pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, nuzzling her nose against his.

"That sounds _perfect._ "

* * *

It was still raining when the Titanic docked in New York, amid cheering and a swarm of journalists and photographers, but Belle didn't mind. Truth be told, she'd always enjoyed the rain so long as she didn't have to sleep in it.

Clad in a soft green dress that Marie had given her "as an engagement present", with her hair pinned up and out of her face, she passed easily for a first class lady. Glancing up as they walked down the stairs to the dock, Belle ignored the crowd entirely, Adam's hand at the small of her back guiding her along while she stared up at the sky.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asked him softly, drops of water landing on her face while they walked, "The rain? Some people hate it, but I never have. I prefer to think of it as an enabler of life. After all, they do say that April showers bring May flowers." Smiling, she met Adam's gaze, her own soft and warm as she added, "Spring is the time of new life. Are you ready to start yours?"

Grinning fondly at her musings, Adam gently wiped the rain from her face with his coat-sleeve, nodding and kissing her forehead before guiding her toward the motorcar where Lumiere and Plumette were waiting for them.

"With you, my love, I think I'll be ready for anything."

* * *

"I'm not ready for this!"

Pacing anxiously back and forth in one of the ensuite bathrooms of Marie's new house, Adam shook his head, anxiously fanning himself with a few sheets of paper. After making the trade with Marie; the Prince's Rose for his mother's diamond; she had pawned it, as he suggested, and obtained a fortune of her very own. No longer with any need to marry to obtain her father's money, Marie bought her own house in the city, moved Anna in with her, and lived comfortably.

At the present moment, Adam was the exact opposite of comfortable. He was dressed in his finest suit, his cravat was neatly pinned and his cuffs were perfectly linked, but he'd never looked more frazzled. Shuffling the papers that he was clutching, he glanced down at them and made a distraught sound.

"I'm never going to remember all of this. Belle deserves _love sonnets_ , Lumiere! She… She deserves verse worthy of _Romeo_ , as loathsome as he may be. I've written my vows meticulously, and I can't remember a thing!"

Hitting his head with the papers, his expression wild, Adam made a frustrated noise. Weeks ago, while planning the wedding, he and Belle had agreed to write – and memorize – their own vows, on the off chance that it would be raining outside and they wouldn't be able to tote the papers around.

Of course, it was raining. It was _always raining_ in New York. Which meant he couldn't bring a safety net in case he choked up, and he was choking up majorly at the moment.

Watching Adam pace from his spot perched on the rim of the claw-foot bathtub, Lumiere shook his head.

"Belle _loves you_ , mon amie," he prompted, getting to his feet and grabbing Adam's shoulders so he would stop pacing, "and _you_ love _her_. When the time comes, and you are looking into her eyes, you will know exactly what you need to say."

"How can you possibly know that?" Adam asked, swallowing roughly, and Lumiere patted his shoulders comfortingly.

"Because you will say what is in your heart."

* * *

When the time came, with their small group gathered in Marie's misty flower garden, Plumette walked Belle down the aisle and gave her away, giving Adam a very pointed, " _if you hurt her, I will kill you_ " stare before smiling and joining Lumiere.

She was an absolute vision in white, with her vail pinned into her hair and pearls adorning her lace dress. It had been a "pre-wedding present" from Marie. As it turned out, she was quite fond of giving "presents".

Lumiere had been right. Standing there with Belle, her hands in his and her eyes sparkling, he hadn't needed pages of verse and sweet nothings. He knew precisely what he wanted to say to her. He described, from the bottom of his heart, how he loved her so terribly much; how he would pull the stars from the sky for her if she asked him to; how all he wanted to do, for the rest of his life, was spend every waking moment making her happy.

His words brought tears to her eyes, and hers to his when she vowed that she had never been so happy as she had been in the time they spent together, and how she only hoped she could make him as happy as he made her. She vowed to always shine a light into his dark corners and to pull him back from every precipice that he crossed paths with. She vowed to love him, through thick and thin, forever.

Chip, extraordinarily proud to have been given such an important job, brought them their rings. When Adam was finally allowed to kiss his bride, he lifted her veil and eagerly pressed his mouth to hers, lifting her feet off of the ground and spinning her around. Her giggles, the most beautiful sound in the world, lit up every inch of his heart.

* * *

Shortly after the wedding, Marie insisted upon giving them their _real_ wedding present - their very own house, complete with a white picket fence. It was a far cry from the estate that he had grown up in over in France, but Adam Delacour was elated. For the small, comfortable life that he and Belle wanted to lead, it was _perfect_.

A few months after they moved in, on a particularly hot day, Belle was distracted from her afternoon painting session by a loud yelp from the flower garden that they had planted outside. Glancing down at her very round belly, she grinned and shook her head, setting her paintbrush down and making her way out of the room that doubled as both her studio and Adam's office.

"Let's go see what sort of trouble your papa has gotten himself into, shall we?" she spoke to her belly before slipping out the side door to the garden, peering around it and catching sight of Adam, crouching on the ground and sucking his thumb.

"You're going to give our baby bad habits before it's even born," Belle chastised him playfully and he glanced up at her, removing his thumb from his mouth and showing it to her. The tip of it was bloody, as were several of his other fingers. Her eyes widening, Belle moved to his side and dropped carefully to her knees, taking his hands in hers.

"What in god's name have you been doing out here? You look like you've been attacked by a porcupine!"

His cheeks turning red, Adam cleared his throat, gesturing to the garden sheers at their feet with his head before he spoke.

"You were saying this morning how much you wanted to paint the roses now that they're in bloom, but the sun is too warm for you to sit out here for an extended period of time. So, I was… trying to bring the roses to you."

Her expression softening at his excuse, Belle brought his hands to her lips and gently kissed their unbloodied knuckles, pulling a handkerchief from her painting apron to wipe away the blood coating his fingertips.

"You dear, darling, lovely man," she sighed, offering him a soft smile as she cleaned him up. "Most people use _gloves_ when they try to pick and trim roses. They do have thorns, you know."

"I know," Adam huffed, pouting at her teasing tone. "I couldn't _find_ any gloves. I figured I could stand a few pricked fingers if it meant you'd be happy."

To her surprise, he smiled softly and lifted the single red rose that he'd managed to cut, doing significant damage to all of his fingers in the process of ensuring there would be no thorns on it when he gave it to her.

" _Pour ma belle_ ," he crooned, tapping into the story she'd told him what felt like a century ago, extending the flower toward her, "the most beautiful rose in my garden."

Her heart fluttering at the sweetness of the gesture, Belle took the rose and smiled tearfully, lowering her nose to the petals to give it a small sniff. To her surprise, the sniff was followed almost immediately with a tiny, butterfly-like kick in her belly.

Squeaking, Belle dropped the flower with surprise, both hands falling to rest on her stomach. His eyes going wide, Adam forgot about the hassle of the past hour, worry overshadowing his happiness.

"Belle? Belle, what is it? What's wrong?"

Shaking her head, she looked up at him with a bright smile and a twinkle in her teary eyes, leaving her hands on her stomach.

"Nothing's 'wrong'. The baby – it kicked! That's never happened before."

His eyes widening at the word "kicked", Adam swallowed roughly, looking warily down at her stomach.

"Does it hurt you? The baby kicking?"

" _No_ , you silly man," Belle teased him, her grin softening. "It's too tiny for it to hurt. I promise."

Relaxing a little at that, Adam picked up the rose that Belle had dropped in her surprise, nodding and gently brushing the flower against her stomach.

"Good. Because, if you were in pain, I'm not sure what I-"

" _She did it again!_ "

Jumping at Belle's exclamation, Adam furrowed his brow, lifting the flower away and resting his hand where it had been. Handing her the rose, he nodded.

"Sniff it."

"What?" Belle giggled and he gestured emphatically with his free hand.

"Just _sniff the flower_ , Belle!"

Grinning curiously, she did as he said and, mere seconds later, the baby kicked once more. Belle was laughing, her smile wide, but Adam was simply… _awed_.

"She likes roses," Belle mused, grinning, and Adam's breath hitched when the baby kicked again shortly after the word left her mouth. She really _did_ like roses.

"Have you been telling her our story?" he asked curiously and Belle smiled, peeking up at him.

"It's 'our story', is it?"

"Of course it is," he tutted, both hands resting on her stomach now, his eyes never leaving her baby bump. "It's the first story that you ever told me. _La Belle et la Bete_ is our story."

Her smile softening, Belle lifted a hand to run it through his messy hair; he'd let it grow out a bit since they'd been married, as an expression of his newfound 'freedom'. Personally, she loved his new, carefree, fluffy curls. They made him look softer, somehow. Happier.

"Yes, I've been telling her our story," she confirmed while she combed her fingers through his curls. "I figured you would appreciate my telling her that one more than _Romeo and Juliet_. Tragedy is a bit too heavy for the womb."

Normally he would have scoffed at the mere mention of her favourite Shakespeare play, but he was distracted by the fact that they had so easily slipped into calling the baby "her" and "she".

"You think it's a girl, don't you?" he asked, looking up at her, and Belle smiled warmly and nodded, resting a hand on her stomach again close to both of his.

"I've just got… I don't know. It's a feeling, I suppose. It _feels_ like a baby girl."

As she said it, she absently stroked the flower over her stomach again, giggling when it prompted another little kick. Slowly, Adam's awed expression was morphing into one of both awe and pure joy.

"Rose," he said aloud, rather vaguely, before looking up at Belle. "If it's a girl, we aught to name her Rose. Don't you think?"

Smiling brightly at the suggestion, Belle giggled, nodding after a moment and gently rubbing her hand over her belly.

"Little Rose…"

" _Our_ little Rose," Adam echoed, pressing his lips to her stomach.

* * *

As it turned out, it _was_ a girl. Both Adam and Belle were giddy with glee, and they doted on their baby daughter with endless amounts of love. Belle read her stories and spun new tales just for her while she rocked her and fed her, and Adam was particularly fond of the tickle monster game purely because of how Rose's giggles would fill the entire house when they played. The sound reminded him so very much of Belle's laughter.

From the first moment that he held his daughter, Adam took to calling her his "little rosebud". He was ever the affectionate father, singing her to sleep each night and always rocking her back to sleep should she ever wake up. The care that he took with her never ceased to amaze Belle. Never once did she have to get up and soothe their crying infant; Adam was always up, faster than she could react, and into the nursery quicker than a flash. In her heart, Belle knew it was because he couldn't bear to hear Rose cry.

While Rose was very much her papa's little princess, Maurice was devotedly Belle's baby boy when he came along, roughly three years after Rose. He stuck to her like glue, toddling along behind her throughout the house from room to room and eagerly taking up finger painting when he was big enough, to be close to her even when she was working.

At this point in time Adam had begun teaching at the University of Columbia. When Madame Potts asked him what inspired such a career, he told her that he "felt he had dreamed about it and it just seemed _right_." Rose was extremely fond of curling up in his lap whenever he worked in the study, scribbling like mad on a sheet of paper while he compiled his own lecture notes, grinning fondly at her as she 'helped'.

However, he wasn't fond of being away from Belle and their children during the day. He knew it was the proper thing to do, going out and working; Marie had generously offered them a sum of the fortune that she obtained from the Prince's Rose when Belle first discovered she was pregnant, for the young woman, ever their devoted friend, simply wouldn't have Adam not being around to dote on Belle at her every beck and call.

Belle, on the other hand, made them a good sum of income with her art. As it turned out, the people in New York _were_ more open to new artists and they paid _far_ better than the aristocrats in Paris had.

Just the same, Adam knew that he had to do _something_. What better than teaching eager students about the things that he loved? With his expensive European education, the university board had all but leapt to snatch him up.

Of course, being a professor also entailed a lot of take-home work. On one particular night in January, he'd been in the office well past midnight, glasses perched on his nose and pen in hand while he poured over a stack of papers that his students had handed in over a week ago. It was hard, balancing being a devoted father and a good teacher; every moment that Rose and Maurice were awake and he was home, he wanted to spend with them. But that meant working well into the night, to the point that even the strongest cup of tea was barely keeping his eyes open.

He hadn't even realized that he had begun to doze off at his desk until Belle wrapped her arms around him from behind, jerking him awake and sending his glasses askew on his nose with surprise. Feeling both a surge of love and pity, Belle tenderly kissed his head, squeezing her arms around him as he fixed his glasses.

"Come to bed, _mon cher_. You're positively exhausted," she prompted, resting her chin atop his head as she combed her fingers through his hair, and Adam grumbled something intelligible. He had a tendency to do that when he was tired and wrapped up in something.

"I may speak fluent baby talk, but I didn't catch a word of that," she prompted and he finally looked up, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to blink away the bleariness overcoming him.

"I'm sorry, my love," he sighed, taking her hand and gently pulling her into his lap. "I've just been putting these off all week-"

"-because you were busy with the children," she finished, tenderly cupping his cheek. Nodding, Adam took off his glasses and dropped them onto the desk, leaning into her touch.

"Darling, it isn't the end of the world if you can't spend every waking moment with them. Truly. They're very happy and very easy to please; I'm confident they would understand if their papa needed to get some work done during the daylight hours rather than burning the midnight oil."

Frowning faintly, Adam opened his eyes, resting a hand over Belle's on his cheek.

"I don't want them to feel neglected," he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion, turning his head to kiss her hand. "I don't ever want them to think that they don't mean absolutely everything to me…"

Tenderly tilting his chin up, Belle made him meet her gaze before she spoke.

"You are _not_ your father," she promised him, gazing intently into his eyes. "Don't you _ever_ be afraid of that. You are the most wonderful father that any child could ever want, and both of our children know that you adore them. And _they_ adore _you_."

Leaning forward, Belle bumped her nose against his, whispering, " _I_ adore you. Now _please_ , come up to bed; I'm positively freezing up there all by myself, and I do believe it's your job as my husband to keep me warm on winter nights."

"Is it really that cold upstairs?" Adam asked anxiously and Belle knew instantly he was worried about Rose and Maurice. Kissing his forehead, she sighed, smiling fondly.

" _Non,_ _mon amour_. But it's still your job to keep me _warm_."

Slowly, his groggy brain began to catch up with what she meant and Adam's sleepy eyes widened. Jumping to his feet, he took Belle's hand in his, flicking off the lights in their shared workspace before hurrying her up the stairs, her giggles floating through the house.

In moments like these, soft moments filled with love and warm embraces and children's laughter, Adam swore that it felt just like heaven.


End file.
